


The World In Its Dark Grace

by tyrantsandcreampuffs



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-24 08:41:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 81,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6147985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tyrantsandcreampuffs/pseuds/tyrantsandcreampuffs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The end of her sword hovers above his shoulder, right beside his neck. Any sudden movement, and she would have him incapacitated -- perhaps permanently.</p><p>"<i>You killed my husband</i>."</p><p>The accusation echoes around them, her voice shrill with equal parts fury and horror. </p><p>He grabs her blade with his bare hand, thickened with callouses from years of fighting, and pulls the rest of the weapon away from her grasp. Drops of his blood fall to the ground from the new wound on his palm, but if he feels any pain from the cut, he does not say anything.</p><p>"I <i>am</i> your husband."</p><p>--</p><p>After years of war end in a call for an armistice, an arranged marriage is proposed to maintain the new and fragile peace between two kingdoms. Rey, captain of the Rebels, the elite warriors of her kingdom, has volunteered to be a bride of the former enemy, the Knights of Ren, in order to seek vengeance for her fallen friend -- by marrying the man who killed him, Kylo Ren.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't kidding when I reblogged [that post over at my tumblr](http://kaathiiee.tumblr.com/post/140081351894/the-force-awakens-in-these-merry-old-fan-portraits) and said I was inspired to write a new fic even with my WIPs lined up all due for updating. Woops.
> 
> I initially planned this to be just one long chapter, but I had issues on where to place the cuts, so I decided to make it a multi-chapter work instead. I hope I maintain the inspiration for this work, else it becomes abandoned. I think it would be a shame of an idea if I'm not able to realize this story. But I have written out most of the plot points in my notebook so I should have something up again next week.
> 
> Title is taken from A Short History of My Life by Charles Wright. 
> 
> Hope you like it!

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It is the break of dawn.

She has been kneeling over the same spot for hours, eyes closed, concentration unwavering. The breeze carries over the scent of dew on grass, the scent of morning. The sun has yet to fully rise, its light barely slipping through the mountains, so no warmth is cast on the land. She is still surrounded by the same gray fog dancing through the grounds since night, by the chill it leaves in her bones – but it does not give her cause to break her vigil.

The birds from the nearest village caw, signal their masters that it is time to wake, that the morning has come. Though she is too far away that she doesn’t hear the sound, her body knows when it is day. She opens her eyes and there is no longer the silence of her emptied mind, only the keen awareness of her present surroundings. The grass beneath her knees has done little to cushion her, so the dirt around her had given in to her weight from the many hours she has spent there. She feels the need to stretch, to return blood to the lower part of her legs, but she cannot stand, not yet; all her thoughts are now focused on the stone directly in front of her, smooth marble reflecting a gray version of her visage.

A hand that was previously resting on her lap rises to reach for the cool surface to feel the ridges where a name has been carved out on the even slab. Her palms are calloused over from fighting for years, her heart, toughened as she made herself a survivor, and yet –

Nothing could have prepared her for this _ache_ , dull and throbbing in her chest, at the sight of a name on a stone.

She takes her first breath, a deep shudder that resounds and echoes around her in the vacivity of her environment. The tips of her fingers trace over the troughs, starting over from the beginning once she reaches the end, retracing the motions until she loses herself in the act. It is another hour before she is called out of her reverie, before the weight of another hand settles on one shoulder with a gentle squeeze.

“It’s time,” the voice says, and without looking back, she knows who has found her.

Her hand drops back to her side. Still kneeling, she moves forward, and the pain that courses through her is immediate; the skin over her knees feel like they have been scraped raw. Despite it, she goes on to rest her forehead on the marble, her eyes fluttering to a close as she calms herself, distracts herself from the discomfort her body encounters.

“We’ll see each other again,” she whispers a promise to a body that isn’t even there. “I believe that.”

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There is little comfort to be found in holding on. Rey has learned this the hard way.

She is abandoned at a young age and grows up foolishly believing, clinging to the hope that her family will find her, will reclaim her from the tyrant they have deposited her to, but after years and years of nobody coming for her, she accepts her fate of being yet another unwanted child, orphaned.

After resigning herself to her reality, she feels liberated. She is free. There is nothing tethering her to the home that isn’t her home, and when a man, a soldier of their kingdom, arrives on horseback to announce that the army is drafting and is calling for volunteers, she doesn’t hesitate to come with. _A war is breaking out_ , the soldier tells her, but she doesn’t care – she should, because wars are tragic and brutal and death is an all too real consequence in the fighting, but she doesn’t – and she shushes him, tells him the truth of her desire: _just take me away_ _from here_.

Presently, she is clutching on to the fabric of her friend Poe’s coat. She has no choice but to hold on, else she falls off the back of the horse he brought to fetch her as he speeds through the cobbled streets to reach their destination. He doesn’t speak of what he witnessed; he doesn’t ask what she had been doing because he understands, and she’s grateful for his silence. Her nails dig deeper into the wear as he slows down to a stop, and the act does little to quell her anxiety, as though the cloth itself is speaking to her, saying, _there is no comfort here_.

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At very heart of the kingdom of Ileenium is the capital – and at the heart of the heart of the massive land is the castle of the ruling monarch, an impressive structure that looks to be made of gold when seen from afar in the day. As it is surrounded by a lake, the building lights up in the night as well, reflecting the light of the moons, shining iridescent. Aside from being the capitol, the center of political activity, the castle also serves as a beacon of sorts to the people, a reminder of their security under the rule of their most benevolent queen.

Years before, when Rey first arrived in D’Qar, she had been mesmerized by the beauty of the city, of the modern architecture that defied her expectations, but she had been especially awe-struck by the castle. Having grown up in a small village at the southern reaches of the kingdom, there had been only sand to gaze at, and there was not much to admire in the grits that caused irritation when touched to skin. Compared to Jakku, D’Qar had appeared like a sanctuary. The castle had been something out of a dream, and she could not contain her mirth the very first time she had been invited inside. Now, there is only dread that pools in her gut as she climbs up the grand staircase leading to the meeting chamber where she and her fellow captain had been summoned to.

“What do you think the queen will tell us?” Poe asks her, sparing her a brief glance as they continue to make their way up. “Would you bet it’s bad news or good news?”

She doesn’t say anything until they are standing outside the chambers, until they have to wait for the guard to announce their arrival and await the explicit instruction of their queen to let them inside.

“The war is over,” she says, the line practiced on her tongue. She has told herself the same words after countless nights of waking to nightmares. “What news could be better?”

The guard returns and tells them they may proceed. They step into the chamber and all eyes lock on to them. Poe isn’t at all perturbed, rather he basks in the attention and he offers an ever charming grin to the rest of the occupants of the room: regional representatives, council members, a few other military officers, and finally the queen and her advisors. Rey rolls her eyes at the antic and drags him to the seats assigned for them.

“You are late,” the queen points out as she is sat on a chair on an elevated platform, and no one dares to mumble as she still speaks. In formal meetings such as this, her wears compose of military garb, long pants and a vest, merits pinned over her breast to signify her rank as not just queen, but commander. “I expected more from the captains of the Rebels.”

Rey knows better than to actually apologize in the presence of an assembly. Instead she nods back at the queen in acknowledgement of her fault when the monarch gives her a small smile accompanied by a knowing look.

“Let us not hold this session any longer than we must,” Queen Leia Organa says, her voice mellowed with age yet just as stern as when she was young, “Advisor Calrissian, please continue.”

 “Yes, your highness.” A man had been standing in the center of the chamber, Rey had failed to notice during their arrival, but after the interlude of their entry, everyone’s focus returns to him. “To summarize, there were not much negotiations to be done for the trade agreements. Both parties have agreed to maintain the majority of old terms from before the war. The routes are open once more, except there have been reports of bandits along the Rimma Trade Route.”

“And what was the solution proposed?”

“As the reports have mostly been closer to their region, the kingdom of Esstran has volunteered to take responsibility in dealing with the bandits.”

“Very well.” Leia waves her hand, signaling for her advisor to return to his seat. Rey notices that the queen has begun to massage a spot over her brow, as though she is trying to fight off a migraine. “Then as all three advisors have presented their respective negotiations, it means it is my turn.” She rises from her seat of power and moves to the center of the chamber, assisted by a guard. To Leia, there is nothing new in speaking to an assembly, but what she has to say is foreign in her rule.

“There have been many wars before this, and as such, many treaties signed to settle into an armistice. My three advisors have spoken of ways in which relations could be strengthened between our kingdom and that of Esstran, but historically the most effective way to maintain the peace has been through intermarriage of royal blood, noble houses, and the like.”

There are immediate murmurs that follow the queen’s declaration. Their kingdom is structured differently, with no existing nobility and the glaring problem of the lack of heir in the royal family. The representatives and councilmen all whisper to one another, asking questions like _how_ and _who_ and _did our queen really think this through?_

“I have called upon you all here today in search for volunteers. I believe that you, esteemed representatives and councilmen, have daughters and sons trained, capable to handle themselves under the pressure of marrying into Esstran nobility.”

“If I may ask, my queen,” one man shouts from the back, voice wavering, “but by Esstran nobility, you don’t possibly mean—”

There is a hush that sweeps over the chamber. Despite the palpable tension, Leia’s response is swift.

“The First Order, yes.”

Poe lets out a low whistle. Rey feels his wariness at the prospect, but he doesn’t speak out his thoughts. He is calculating by himself, thinking deeply that creases form on his head. She starts to think as well, of what she knows of the infamous line of nobility that rules the other kingdom.

The First Order is composed of the families that hold power in each region of Esstran, and during the war they had brought all their heirs together to form the elite team of warriors known as the Knights of Ren, known for leading their side of the war efforts, known for burning citadels and stirring sites of bedlam, leaving a trail of bodies between them and the next town they choose to attack. Rey knows of the horrors those knights had caused, knows that there is no justification for the cruelty they displayed to mere _civilians_ during the war; and the thought of forcing her fellow citizens into a marriage with those _monsters_ appalls her so.

And while there are only a handful of them in the chamber who had actually fought in the war, everyone has heard tales of the Knights of Ren and no one wants to have anything to do with the vindictive heirs of the First Order.

“The provisions of the marriage are still under negotiation, but what is already fixed in the treaty is that at least one marriage needs to occur by the end of the year. Given that we are pressed for time as it is, I wanted to create a selection pool of suitable brides and grooms for their own heirs.” Leia once again takes a breath, almost sounding winded and definitely worn. “It is a lot to ask, I know, but I believe that we are capable of forgiveness just as they are. Our people have killed theirs and vice versa; and in the end the statistics of our losses are comparable, so we can say with full confidence that we have lost just as much as they have. Vendettas aside, their nobility is put in very high regard in Esstran, and so if one of our own is married into one of their families, then I have no doubt that they will be safe and taken care of as another Esstran citizen.”

Still, no hands raised up to volunteer their sons or daughters. The queen shares a look with her advisors, a frown pulling at her refined features. Leia looks back at the rest of the assembly, eyes scanning the crowd, waiting to see a hand shoot up, a brave soul accepting the challenge, but after two sweeps there is none, and Leia almost gives up hope in the idea that it is possible until –

“Rey, what are you doing?” Poe screeches, trying to swat her arm back to her side, but she has already decided.

“It will be my honor to volunteer, my Queen,” she declares, standing. “I am a captain of the Rebels, the elite warriors of our land, and it is my duty to serve my kingdom in whatever capacity needed of me.”

Rey expects a different reaction from Queen Leia. She expects her to smile gratuitously, to slump slightly and exhale in relief, to thank her and go on a short tirade on the bravery and integrity of youth such as her, to make an example out of Rey. She does not expect the monarch’s frown to deepen.

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Marriage, Rey knows, is not always about love.

Her parents had been married. She knows this. She knows because the only memory she has of her mother is right before her mother leaves, right before Rey is pushed into the grubby hands of Unkar Plutt. There is a lie in her memories, an  _I’ll come back for you, sweetheart_ , and the soft squeeze of her hand. Rey knows her parents had been married because she had been trying to hold on to her mother’s hand, and in doing so she had felt the small band wrapped around her mother’s finger.

How does she know they were not in love? She doesn’t, but she has speculated on it over the many years of her abandonment. Her reasoning is simple: if they had really been in love with one another, then they wouldn’t have simply abandoned the product of their marriage, would they have?

Marriage, Rey knows, is not always about love.

At least, not always _that kind_ of love.

She knows because she herself had been married once before.

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“What were you thinking?” Poe berates her, screaming as though he is about to get his head cut off beneath the blade of a guillotine. After the dismissal of the assembly, he had been quick to pull her out before the queen could request for her, dragging her to one of the empty halls that would not be passed by the other attendees on their way out of the castle. “No, you weren’t thinking at all, were you!”

“I am an adult,” is all Rey manages to say before Poe begins to tell her off for being stupid once more.

“You have to tell the queen that it was an honest mistake,” he suggests, “that you didn’t know what you were saying, what you’re getting yourself into—”

“But I do.” Even Rey is surprised by her own calm in the face of Poe’s fretfulness. Usually, it is the other way around, with her co-captain being the voice of reason between the two of them, especially during the war when Rey had been distraught after, after—

“The Knights of Ren are _dangerous_ , Rey!”

“And _I_ am not?” Rey raises her voice to match his, rises up to the challenge of his words. “I was not made the youngest captain of the Rebels in _history_ because I was _weak_. I stand where I am because of my own strength, because I did not rely on anyone else to put me in this position. I am a captain because I have proven myself worthy to fight, to lead, and I will _not_ have you take that away from me!”

“I’m not saying you are weak. I wouldn’t dare think of it,” Poe remedies, more somber now, “I just… Rey, I promised _him_ I wouldn’t let you get hurt again. I couldn’t do much about it during the war, on the battlefields because we both had our duties to the kingdom—”

“And isn’t this just an extension of that very same duty? Am I not doing this for the peace?”

There is something that gives her away: the dazed twinkle of her eye, the clench of her fists, the bite of her cheek. There is something Rey doesn’t notice she is doing that shows Poe that she is not being wholly honest with him, and if Poe is one thing, it is perceptive and he latches on to Rey’s tell-tale mannerisms.

“You’re doing this out of revenge,” he states it not as a question, but as a fact. “It was one of the knights that led the siege to the citadel where Finn had been—”

“Don’t you _dare_ say his name—”

“I loved him too!” he shouts, exasperated, and it is this frustration that takes Rey aback, makes her anger flush down to her feet, to the drain. “I loved him, too, Rey, and I’m not going to let his sacrifice become meaningless by throwing away this already fragile peace for the sake of _revenge_.”

There is not much she can say, Rey knows, that will convince Poe that it isn’t her intention to throw their kingdom back into the violent throes of war. 

“There would be at least ten knights to choose from,” Rey says instead. “What would be the odds of my husband-to-be being the very same one that brought Finn’s demise?”

“You tell me.” Poe shakes his head, not bothering to hide his disappointment. “Do you know which knight it was?”

“You read the same report I did,” Rey answers, teeth grit. “You know that Finn’s killer was unnamed, unknown.”

It takes a long stare from Poe for him to concede. He relaxes his posture, exhales, and leans back on the wall across her. Rey crosses her arms over her chest and huffs, how she expresses her own disdain over their disagreement.

“Fine,” he says. “But if I sense something amiss, then I _will_ tell the queen. Promise me you won't do anything stupid.”

“ _Fine_ ,” she says in return, glaring at him. Rey feels like he is treating her as though she is a child who is incapable of making decisions for themselves. "I promise."

Neither between the two adds anything more. They leave it there, before another argument can break out, and as Poe rounds the corner of the corridor to leave Rey alone, he almost bumps into the matron of their kingdom.

“Forgive me, my queen, I was not looking where I was going—”

“Oh, don’t give me that nonsense, Poe,” Leia tells him, teasing and affectionate in her warm tone. “I was wondering where you and Rey had wandered off to. Don’t think I didn’t see you drag her away from the conference once I gave permission for dismissal, that poor girl.”

“We just had to clear some misunderstanding, your majesty, but it is all well between us now.”

“Would it be related to the reason as to why you two were late to the assembly?”

“In a way, yes, your majesty.”

“I had hoped to speak to her now of the marriage she volunteered to. It doesn’t please me that it is _our_ Rey, Poe, but I thought it through after she stood. She is strong – not just physically or mentally, but it is her heart I believe that will allow her to handle such a trying task with patience and poise. She is more than capable of protecting herself from whatever harm comes her way, too.”

“Of course she is, your highness.” Poe isn’t about to question the queen’s confidence in his co-captain, not when he's supposed to trust her the most. “I will not keep you any longer.”

He turns and calls out for Rey, and she comes jogging to them, bowing slightly to acknowledge the queen. Once they begin their conversation about the marriage provisions, Poe slips away, before he hears something he doesn’t approve of and fights with Rey anew.

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One doesn’t survive being a scavenger in the badlands of Jakku without growing a thicker face. It is a lesson that is imparted on her by hunger, by being trustful, by not knowing how to deceive anyone other than herself.

The first time Poe catches her off-guard, she reminds herself of what she’s learned from the desert town.

The second time, he doesn’t see the lie sitting right under his nose. She knows all about lies, knows the sickly sweet tone of false hopes: _I’ll come back for you, I’ll come back for you, sweetheart, I’ll come back for you_. And she knows how to be convincing when she has to be, knows when to call someone else _sweetheart_ and promise something that she cannot fulfill.

 _Do you know which knight it was_?

Of course she knows.

His name is Kylo Ren.

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	2. Graceless

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It only takes them a week.

After the initial shock of the queen’s announcement wears off, some other representatives and councilmen come forward to add the names of their progeny to the selection pool of matches for the Knights of Ren. While the queen is thrilled that they are able to enforce this provision in the treaty with greater chances of success, this doesn’t please Rey at all because competition is still competition. If she wishes to push through with exacting revenge, then she must be the one to get Kylo Ren; and having other people who have an equal claim to his attention is not going to help her admittedly selfish cause.

 _But_ , Rey reminds herself, that is a matter to concern herself for another day.

The first thing she needs to worry about is knowing who he is when she finally meets him.

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The nobility of Esstran and their companions arrive at around midnight, when most if not all of the city is asleep. It is a brilliant idea, Rey admits, coming into the capital at night so as not to be seen by the citizens. While the war never reached the inner lands, there are still those who had family from the affected regions, those who had friends who joined the efforts. There will be tension, the crown fully expects it, but the queen treats it as an additional driving force to push for peace.

Rey, however, searches for a different peace. She wants peace for her own mind, tranquility for the turbulent nights when she cannot find respite from bad dreams – such as tonight.

She steps out of the balcony of her room in the castle, a not-so transitory living arrangement readied by the queen herself. Leia does little to hide her favor for the female captain, and Rey is welcomed always as a daughter of sorts to the queen. Perhaps it is her status as the leader of the Rebels, Leia’s brainchild, but Rey knows there is much more to how Leia perceives her.

There is a gentle breeze that greets her as she pulls herself up to sit on the ledge. The sky is overcast, covering the moonlight with thick clouds. Rey can feel the weather teetering to a chilling storm, and it is a split-second decision she makes between coming back inside and going to the central garden that connects both wings of the castle. Her robe tied to a close, she swings herself over and grabs hold of the branch of the tree closest to her, balancing on the thick end before jumping down, landing a little less gracefully than she hopes. The ground beneath her is firm, and with bare feet, she begins her short trek to clear her mind, to drain herself of the excess energy so she will give in to sleep easily when she returns. She has no lamp to guide her way; there is no need for it in the hollow section of the castle where the light of the twin moons shines overhead.

She takes a walk in the quiet of the night, her own thoughts being her sole companion. Around her, there is only the swaying of the branches and bushes from the wind. The cold makes her pull her robe closer; perhaps she should have taken her coat instead. Beyond the trees, on the other end of the garden, the guests from Esstran are settling into their accommodations, resting from their journey before the official reception ball tomorrow. The reality of their presence puts a halt to Rey’s tracks.

 _Kylo Ren is here_.

Or, _he isn’t_. Rey still doesn’t know who he is, and her attempts of smuggling information out of the queen’s intelligence officer Threepio had been fruitless. As a captain, she would have been given access to the files they had on the Knights; but as a volunteer in the selection pool for suitable matches, she had been denied her request – so as _not to taint their meeting with any more unnecessary prejudice_ , the queen solemnly reasoned. Still, Rey knows she has leverage; how could write-ups compare to being in the presence of the knights themselves?

 _Is he here?_ Rey ponders the questions to herself. _Did he even survive the war?_

If he hadn’t, then she had only set herself up for more misery: a loveless marriage, a lust for vengeance unresolved, an injustice to the husband she lost too soon in the war.

Her eyes narrow on a lone figure she sights on the opposite end of the garden, standing above, before the railings of the balcony of his room on the other wing. Being given a room with access to the garden means that person is of a certain standing – they could only be a noble from Esstran. Though she has eyes trained to size up an enemy from a distance, Rey can only tell so much in the darkness.

 _You_ , Rey thinks, not taking her eyes off the silhouette, _are you Kylo Ren?_

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She rises when it is almost noon.

It is uncharacteristic of her as she always wakes up at or before dawn, always wakes up to another battle that needs to be fought, to another issue that requires her attention.

 _But_ , Rey reminds herself, _the war is over_.

They have left a tray of food for her on a cart, assorted breads and pastries with a selection of tea. It is a service that any royal can expect every day of their life, but Rey carries none of the blood to categorize her as such – she does, however, have the favor of the queen, and to the servants of the crown that is enough to treat her as a princess.

She grumbles as she stumbles out of her bed. She would have to talk to Leia about not getting any preferential treatment, but knowing the queen, she would most likely deny of handing out orders to make Rey as comfortable as possible. Resigned, Rey reaches for one helping and takes a bite. As she does so, she realizes that the food is not the only thing that has been brought into her room as she was asleep: hanging over the tufted high back chair is a gown.

A deep red, almost burgundy, lays contrast against the beige of her lounger. The top of the dress is made of an intricate pattern of lace stitched together with diamantine beads scattered to add sparkles when light would happen upon the wearer. The bottom composes of layers upon layers of hard tulle, puffing up the skirt that reaches well below the ankle, the final cover of which is a thick velvet that would guarantee warmth during the revels. It is a beautiful attire, and if Rey were to wear it, the only other one that could match her in sophistication of apparel would be the queen herself.

Which reminds Rey that the dress could only come from Leia, and the appearance of the garb in her room signifies an undeclared order: _wear it_.

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The Rebels hadn’t been around for the entirety of the history of the kingdom of Ileenium, but the founding of it is a story Rey has yet to tire of hearing.

Almost half a century ago, the ruling monarch at the time had been Queen Padmé Amidala, born Padmé Naberrie before adopting a different name as she became queen at just fourteen years old. Most of the accounts call her brilliant and beautiful, say that she served her people with devotion unseen from the ruling family in a long time. A decade into her rule and she had been the one to rescind the privileges of the old noble houses of their kingdom – the Jedi. Her husband, king-consort Anakin Skywalker, was a member of the Jedi and after the announcement of the queen’s ruling, had been manipulated into attempting to overthrow his wife from her seat. The affair led to a civil uprising, and in the aftermath of the death of the queen in the siege of the castle, the king had lost his mind, made him more vulnerable than before. Admitting to his instability, Anakin gave the throne to one of the former queen’s most trusted advisors, Advisor Palpatine, who then planned to take over the rest of the neighboring kingdoms to create an empire. Unable to find any other way to deal with his grief, the former king-consort had placed himself at the forefront of their crusade, leading the army to capture territories for the new King Palpatine.

Two decades later, the kingdom had only became more destitute, not able to afford the wars it kept waging in the outlying lands. It was in this period of time that the Rebels was founded by the daughter of Padmé, Leia Skywalker, who had been hidden away by loyalists to the old ruling monarch, by those who believed that the young girl could one day reclaim their kingdom. She rallied her own troops in covert missions, personally journeying to each region and speaking with every citizen who would listen. She risked her life in her travels every day in the hopes that she would have enough people to rally behind her when she takes back the throne. It was on one of these visits that she stumbled upon the brother she had never known, her twin – Luke Skywalker, a scholar of one of the temples of Tatooine. Compared to her, he had grown more humbly in a farming village, unaware of his true origins and the legacy that awaited him if he cared to accept it.

However, their reunion could not last long enough to allow for them to properly be acquainted. On the day of their meeting, the King cum Emperor had found out of the Rebels and ordered for the destruction of Alderaan, Leia’s home since she had been smuggled away at birth, accompanying the search for the lost princess. The loss of her home had prompted the beginning of the rebellion, and once Anakin found out that his and Padmé’s children survived, he was quick to turn against Palpatine. As a family, they were able to defeat the emperor – at the cost of Anakin’s life.

Leia ascended to the throne and took on the name of Organa to honor the family that had raised her and to continue the tradition her mother had set of taking on a different name as queen. She fell in love with and married Han Solo, a trader who aided her by smuggling her into regions with difficult access before following her to become part of the Rebels. Luke, on the other hand, while he had an equal claim to the throne, he was set in his scholarly work and turned down Leia’s offer for a seat on her advisory council and instead returned to assist in the restoration of the temples ruined during the uprisings. So in the end, Leia Organa became the new sole monarch, Queen of Ileenium.

Most of The Rebels left to return to civilian life in their respective regions, but the few who stayed in the capital became the personal guard of the queen. In D’Qar they received further training in various fields – negotiations, strategies and tactics, battle. The Rebels were an entity separate from the militia, helping the crown keep the peace of the kingdom through internal means in the decades of the queen’s rule, and only the finest warriors with the sharpest minds would even be considered to join the independent organization of elites.

This is the story Queen Leia tells her as she visits the temporary garrisons near the borders as the war between their kingdom and Esstran deepens. Rey is twenty-two and fraught, having just heard of news that weakens her knees and unsettles her stomach. Leia finds her as she is weeping and Rey doesn’t know how to act, if she should pretend that she is fine in the presence of their sovereign. But Leia tells her that it is okay to cry, that it is not meant to be a sign of weakness. She asks Rey for her personal history and after hearing her out, personally assures her that she is _not_ no one, that she is _someone_ to the kingdom, and having grown up isolated does not mean there is no greater destiny to be found beyond her small village.

Her words are the push Rey needs to clear her mind, to remind her that the war is still ongoing despite her tragedy. When the queen returns back to the capital, Rey retells the story of the founding of The Rebels to her fellow fighters, inspiring them all to end the war. They begin to look up to her as she becomes bolder, as she pushes herself to her limit every time she steps on to the battlefield. She becomes known for her valor and is given the rank of captain within a few months.

The war ends a year after.

And now – now they are _here_.

Now, Rey is telling herself the story of the Rebels to give her the strength she needs to carry on with the rest of the day.

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Half an hour before the start of the ball, there is a knock on the door to her temporary quarters. Poe pushes the door open to let himself in and when he sees her, his brows knit together.

“Are you really wearing that?”

Rey shrugs in response, eyes fixed on the mirror, continuing the task of braiding her hair up. Handmaidens had come in earlier to offer their assistance in her preparations – again, most likely ordered by Leia – but Rey had politely declined.

“I don’t have anything better.”

His lips form a thin line as he suggests, “You could come in your formal wears as Captain.”

“I could,” Rey says, inserting the last pin in place. After she adds the finishing touches of powder on her face – it is not every day she puts effort into looking presentable, and Poe knows the significance of her attempts – she continues, “I’m not going to the reception ball as a captain, but as a potential bride.”

“A _potential_ bride,” Poe stresses. “Not as the bride you were.”

She thinks of the velvet gown she hung in the back of one empty wardrobe. She thinks of the queen’s unsaid order, and how, though it is expected of her, it isn’t an implication she _has_ to pick up on.

“I don’t have anything better.”

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Whatever pervasive meaning Poe thinks there is behind Rey’s choice of dress, there is another reason behind her selection – as there is a justification to the decisions she makes.

She remembers when she had placed the order for the dress. She had no particular design in mind, she had never been a great judgement of style; but she had known what she wanted out of the wear: a functionality that usual frocks did not allow women. Eager for a challenge, the dressmaker went on to create what would become one of Rey’s favorite possessions, for behind its simplicity and unpresumptuous appearance is a secret pocket that allowed her to draw out a short sword stored beneath – a safety measure that she could afford for herself instead of having to rely on another for protection.

She had only worn it twice before; the cream color not stained by her previous uses. After its commission, she wears it to the ceremonial ball they hold in the capital to welcome the new members of the Rebels. After she joins the war, it is the one piece she hides away at the bottom of her small trunk at the garrisons, waiting to come out to see the sunlight – and it does, exactly once, it meets the light from the breaking of dawn on a quiet meadow, away from the war, a _secret_...

Believe what Poe wants, but there is a reason to Rey’s decisions. Always.

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Though they have absolutely no excuse, they arrive late to the ball. Already, there are people inside the main hall – aside from the councilors and representatives and the volunteers, there are also wealthy traders, businessmen and, surprisingly, other foreign delegates present. With such high profile guests, the security is increased as well, and she recognizes some of the members of Rebels under her command on the side, dressed in their formal attires.

She and Poe pass by a group of younger officers huddled in one corner, and they all throw her a goofy grin at the sight of their higher up in a _dress_.

“Captains!” They all stand in attention, though it is lazy. With a wave of his hand, Poe prompts them to be at ease, and one of the girls begins to gush, “Captain Rey, might I say, you look really nice tonight.”

“Thank you,” Rey says with a small smile. “And I believe it is your first time wearing the ceremonial uniform in what isn’t somber circumstances.”

“It is.” They nod, knowing Rey references to the funerals they hold for their fallen comrades. “I hope you are matched to someone most suitable, Captain. When we heard of the news, many of us wished you had allowed us to volunteer in your stead.”

“You are still free to do so,” Poe interrupts. “To volunteer, I mean. Take your captain’s place in the selection pool.”

“You are to do no such thing.” Rey attempts to step on Poe, but he shuffles to the side and makes Rey stumble in place instead as her heel lands at an angle. He catches her and hooks her arm in his, grinning. Rey, incensed, glares back. Once they are done with their stare off, she glances back at the officers, who are obvious in their amusement at the interaction of the two. “And that is a direct order from your captain. Now, return to your posts and don’t let either of us catch you slacking.”

“Yes, Captain!”

With their arms still tangled, Poe leads Rey away and to the center, where the rest of the volunteers are situated, interspersed among the other various attendees. They navigate through the crowd until they settle somewhere a few feet away from the throne, where the queen is seated, observing the merriment from her high chair. The heirs of the First Order have yet to enter, and so the program has yet to actually start – before that, as captains of the Rebels, both Poe and Rey are stationed near the queen, to come to her aid first as their duty requires.

They stand in attention, eyes alert, scanning the crowds for threats. Rey deliberately shoves aside the feeling of Leia’s stare on her back, the question of _why aren’t you wearing the dress I gave you_ piercing her back. A guard approaches the stairway to the queen’s elevated platform and this gives them cause to turn, to watch as he bows before Leia and tells her, “They are waiting to be announced outside, your majesty.”

With a kind smile and a curt nod from the queen, the man goes back to his post by the doorway to relay the message of the queen’s approval. The grand doors open and the light chatters cease, the music from the band descend to silence, and in the place of life is silence as everyone watches the entry of the nobles from Esstran with bated breath.

Rey, too, can only stare as their former enemies, those she had crossed paths in the battlefield at least once before, appear without their armors – all looking just as human as she, and the disconnect staggers Rey so much that it makes her step back. A hand is immediately there to hold her back up, and when she tears her gaze away from the line of nobles, Poe is beside her.

“What do you know,” he states, a hint of faded anger in his tone. “They’re not all monsters beneath those masks they wear on the battlefield.”

“Perhaps not on the outside,” Rey says slowly, regarding the Knights once more, “but inside…”

Once the doors close, letting in the last of the aids of the nobles who are in attendance, Leia rises from her seat, and everyone’s attention returns to the monarch of their kingdom.

“I would like to welcome our guests from Esstran who are here today to promote peace between our two kingdoms,” Leia begins, voice booming in the hushed crowd. “It has been months since the end of the war and we have finished most of the negotiations for the treaties. What is left for us now is to look ahead, to envision a better future with even stronger relations. At the same time, let us all not forget the sacrifices that have been made along the way, those who had given their lives to achieve this new peace.

“We are here because we all wish for the same thing: a new beginning. The war marks another chapter in the long history of our kingdom, and after it we welcome this period of amenity and prosperity. May the marriages that rise from the new treaty serve as a lesson in forgiveness and love to us all.”

An applause resonates in the hall at the end of Leia’s speech and the people move away from the center of the large room, giving way for what is scheduled in the program after the queen’s opening remarks.

“Hey.” Poe nudges her, pushes her forward. “This is your cue.”

Rey, snapping from whatever trance she had been in, nods and steps forward to take her place in the center, meeting her fellow volunteers at one side while across them, the heirs of the First Order – those they were going to _marry_ – are in a single file, awaiting the signal for them to proceed. The volunteers of Ileenium find an initial match, a partner for the dance.

The Rebels captain does one scan of the heirs, the Knights, and it frustrates her that she cannot put a face to Finn’s killer, to the name _Kylo Ren_. Any one of the men in front of her could be that man, and Rey has no idea which one to single out. There are female knights across her as well, and the one that catches Rey’s attention is a tall blonde that is intimidating in her stature.

Beside her, Jessika Pava, a daughter of one of the councilmen, laughs delightedly. “They are all so handsome,” she says, “even that lady knight. Perhaps especially that lady knight.”

The music begins before Rey can give a response to Jessika’s statement. Not that it requires a response, because not even Rey can dispute what Jessika said. The one in front of her, her partner for the first dance, is a gangling man with short red hair and gaunt features, the bones of his cheek sharp, casting a shadow beneath that makes his face look hollow. It does not help that his thin brows are scrunched, forever scrutinizing, and he gives off the impression that he would rather be anywhere else than _here._ Despite all that, Rey thinks that if he loosens up a little, he would be remarkably handsome.

Still, the question haunts Rey’s mind: _are you Kylo Ren?_

Each pizzicato of the violin signifies a step forward to be taken, to close the gap between the two lines of dancers. Another pluck, another stride, until they stand a foot away, and then, the dance proper begins. It is an old dance, traditional and classic, and considered a neutral piece to play as it originates from a culture that is neither Ileenium’s nor Esstran’s. Rey doesn’t fumble over the steps as the dance is deliberately slow, supposedly allowing for the dancers to converse while dancing. She glances to the side and sees that the other pairs are talking; when she looks back at her partner, he is still glaring at her, most likely wishing for her to share in his misery.

She sights Poe in the crowd, and he is mouthing and gesticulating at her, _talk to him!_

“So,” she starts, “what’s your name?”

As the question leaves her mouth, her partner departs abruptly, practically pushing her away in the process, and his place is taken by a new man. He is shorter and much friendlier, immediately prompting her that the first switch also means the change in their formation. Rey wonders why she lets such information slip from her, and she follows his lead as they move between other pairs.

Again, the question: _are you Kylo Ren?_

“Your kingdom boasts such beauty,” the man paired up with her declaims, “the woman in front of me not excepting.”

His attempt at flattery falls short, and Rey only feels discomfort at his comment. She is supposed to be a captain, so she musters enough pride and dignity to smile back, enough poise to thank him for calling her beautiful. If this is Kylo Ren, she doesn’t want to ask, doesn’t want to feel more disgusted than angry with the man whose name she associates with a being of evil.

The beat stops and the man takes a second too long to drop her hands. The second switch cannot come soon enough. He eventually leaves as her new partner comes to view: the tallest man in the room, exuding an aura that is both dark and mysterious, yet his face is much more gentle as he stares down at her. His hair is the color of shadows, the ends of his tresses curl above his shoulders – which are wide enough to make Rey doubt her own size. His coat, too, must be the finest she has seen on the attendees tonight. The man has every cause to be the most intimidating, yet her first assessment of him is _awkward_ as he reaches out to take her hand in his before the music begins anew and they follow the motions once again.

They stumble together exactly once, in the middle of the dance, and this is what causes him to finally speak.

“Forgive me.” His voice is a deep murmur, a kind of shame tinging the notes of his speech. “I… I have never been much of a dancer.”

The confession stirs something in Rey, pulls her to the reminder of the humanness of the man in front of her and of the others in the room. She forgets, for just a moment, of her intentions, of the question that she keeps asking to every new face she encounters in this ballroom.

“I am not much of a dancer either,” she replies, easily falling into a conversation with a man that seems to struggle with the pretense as much as she. “Though the queen was insistent that all the Rebels be more culturally learned.”

“You are a Rebel?”

“I am.”

“Perhaps that is why I couldn’t place you,” he says vaguely. His gaze does not waver in its intensity as he continues to inspect her, as though he is trying to see through her. Never known to back down, Rey meets his stare and tries to figure out who the man in front of her is. The question returns to her mind: _are you—_

Her instincts prevail, senses the threat before it strikes. A man has come forward from the crowd with a blade raised, poised to strike from the back of her dancing partner. Rey, with all of her might, pulls the Knight to her and then pushes him away – which is no easy feat as the man is weighty with the bulk of his own strength. The Knight falls to the floor and all attention has now been diverted to the pair that disrupted the dance. Rey cannot provide an apology, an explanation, not now, as she is held up by the terrorist.

Her own sword withdrawn from its clandestine compartment clashes with the weapon of the attacker. Confounded, the man steps back; he had not been expecting resistance, someone to defend his target – and it is all the opening Rey needs to strike the aggressor down. She is quick to follow him to the floor, to keep him down else he attempts an escape.

Poe and the rest of the Rebels come to her aid, though unwarranted. She is more than capable of handling one foe.

“Are you alright?” Poe helps her up as their lower ranked officers take the man into custody. There need not be an order; he would be brought to a cell for further questioning later. “I should have seen him. I had been watching another pair, and I—”

“I’m fine, Poe,” she answers, arm swinging at the side as she is unsure where to place her weapon. All eyes are on her and she blushes, not wishing the attention to herself. She wishes for a diversion, any distraction that will keep others away from staring at her, and it finally comes in the form of Queen Leia, rushing to them at the center of the room, her guards following closely behind. Rey expects the queen to come _for_ her, but it is a surprise when she walks past Rey and instead goes for the man she had been dancing with, the man she pushed down, the man whose life she had just saved.

 _Of course,_ Rey reasons to herself as she watches the scene unfold, _the queen must personally apologize for the unprovoked attack, else another war breaks out_ _because of this._

He is standing up now, having collected himself after being shoved down by a girl so small compared to him. When their queen stands before him, he appears as a towering figure; his eyes are steely, not temperate as Rey had seen earlier.

“ _Ben_ ,” Leia calls out softly, almost whisper-like. Only those standing close enough could hear her say the name. To the rest of the onlookers, however, the queen appears to stand tall, composed, dignified in the bedlam of the ballroom. “Are you alright?”

“Queen Organa,” the man greets in return; still, there is something in his voice that Rey notices, the same embarrassment. “Yes, I am alright; thanks to the Rebel who had been my partner at the time.”

“Her name is Rey.” She hears the swell of pride as the queen says her name. A small gesture, and Rey knows she is being summoned to her queen’s side. “She is a captain, the youngest so far in its short history. Rey?”

“Yes, your highness?”

“I’d like to formally introduce you to…” Leia stops, frowns, sighs, but picks herself up again with the practiced poise of a ruler. “I’d like to introduce you to _Kylo Ren_.”

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Believe what Poe wants, but there is a reason to Rey’s decisions.

Always.

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She spends the rest of the night asking herself:  _why did you save him?_

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] [inspiration for the gown Leia gives Rey for her to wear](http://notordinaryfashion.tumblr.com/post/140341023220/zuhair-murad-haute-couture-fw-2016)  
> [2] though nondescript in this story, here is the [ initial inspiration for Rey's battle dress](http://historicalfashion.tumblr.com/post/107737009761/herbert-luey-evening-dress-met-museum-ca); really, anything the Bennet sisters wear in Pride and Prejudice and Zombies act as a working model, so that's why I didn't focus on the details
> 
> \--
> 
> Thank you for all the positive feedback! I wasn't due to update this fic for a few more days, but I didn't want to keep you all waiting as you expressed your interest for this fic. I really wasn't expecting it. ^^
> 
> 1) Would anyone be interested in a lore sheet? Basically, it's my go-to reference of the fictional history of this world that includes the geography, the structures of government, details about the war, more details about the events that happen before the story begins. It would also have character sheets, but I will only update those depending on what's already revealed in the story. So... would that be a fun thing for you guys or...?
> 
> 2) If you'd like to help me promote this story, that would be wonderful! For one, [I have this graphic on tumblr](http://kaathiiee.tumblr.com/post/140385888184/) that you can reblog/like. Or you can also link to this story, that would be just as great!
> 
> 3) I don't have a beta. I take a day to type one chapter, go through it once for a lazy spellcheck and then put it up. I come back to it after a few days to do a more polished edit, but it would be a great help if you point out errors or inconsistencies that I may have overlooked.
> 
> 4) I'm open to comments and suggestions as I am still in the process of world building. If you have questions about this AU, don't be afraid to hit me up! Friendly or critical, I welcome them all the same. :)
> 
> That's it! I hope to see you guys again in the next chapter -- which should be up next week!  
> (Or earlier, again, depending on how positive you guys react to this one. :p)
> 
> (I'm also on [tumblr](http://kaathiiee.tumblr.com)! Feel free to talk to me there too!)


	3. Choices

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No one is shocked that the breach in security brings a premature end to the revelry.

Each person leaving the room undergoes inspection, but there are still no leads, no other connections to the man they have in custody; and Rey can see Poe’s frustration building up as the last of the guests go through the assigned exit. After the events of the night, Rey is just as tired, her thoughts continuously racing ever since she heard the name spoken out loud.

 _Kylo Ren_.

“I’m so sorry that the ball did not turn out as you expected, Rey.” Leia appears next to her, still dressed in her formal gown, though bereft of the heavy crown atop her head, having taken it off after the nobles were escorted back to their quarters. There is a heavy sigh as she adds, “Tomorrow is already set for apologies. I can only hope that the nobles do not take offense in the actions of one man against their own.”

“I’m sure they will understand, my queen. They must, for they are aware of their own offenses against those from our kingdom.” Rey’s lips twist into a semblance of a smile, weak in its attempts to be reassuring. “And you need not apologize to me for what happened tonight.”

“But you had on such a beautiful dress,” Leia says, and again Rey hears the undertone of the queen’s query: _why didn’t you wear the one I had given?_  “I can honestly say I’m surprised by its ingenuity. No one wears dresses for battle. Though, I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised, as you are one of the most resourceful persons I’ve met.”

“Thank you, my queen.”

Poe walks up, nodding to Rey and bowing slightly to Leia. There is that crease on his forehead, the same worrisome line that appears whenever he is hard at work, and Rey has no doubt that Poe feels himself responsible for the oversight.

“Everyone present had an invitation on them, my queen. Each staff member has been accounted for as well.” There are other signs of fatigue that show on Poe: his slouched posture, his bent knee, his huff at the end of every other word. Rey doesn’t have to read his mind to know that the _not knowing_ troubles Poe. “If you will excuse me, I shall now head to the dungeons to oversee the interrogation.”

Leia nods, expressing her permission for his leave, knowing the urgency of the situation. The nobles will most likely expect some kind of justice to be delivered for the man’s attempt of breaching the new treaty, and they are pressed to deliver an update by the morning, when Leia is due to give a formal apology to their guests from Esstran.

“I shall come with,” Rey announces, stepping forward to follow – only to have Poe turn around and push her back.

“ _You_ ,” he orders, voice authoritative yet soft enough to not let anyone else but Rey hear, “are to return to your own quarters here in the castle.”

“You can’t tell me what I can and can’t do. We’re of equal rank now, Poe, and I am just as capable with handling the interrogation as you are.”

“Why? So you can be a hypocrite when you ask the man why he wanted to kill the one you were dancing with?”

“ _Excuse me?_ ” She isn’t sure if she bears more anger or panic within her; anger that Poe has the gall to accuse her and panic that he _knows_ who Kylo Ren is supposed to be to her when he shouldn’t. It takes a considerable amount of time for Rey to run through what she knows, to convince herself that Poe _doesn’t_ know anything about the truth of the identity of Finn’s killer, yet she remains visibly upset by what Poe accuses her of.

Leia steps in between them, wrapping her still gloved hand over Rey’s upper arm. With a gesture, she lets Poe go on with his task; and while her hold on Rey is meant to be gentle, comforting, the younger woman only feels herself shake harder with whatever emotion is bubbling inside of her.

“You should rest, Rey,” Leia says, voice soothing. “Take it as an express command from me. I will require you by my side in the morning when I face the nobles.”

It takes a squeeze from Leia’s hand to ground Rey, to remind her that allowing such feelings to simmer will only lead to something worse.

Resigned, Rey sighs. “Yes, my queen.”

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_Why did you save him?_

Rey shuts her eyes, lets the cold breeze passing through the central garden caress her face. Like the previous night, she is on the ledge of her balcony as sleep continues to elude her. What she needs is peace of mind, but she will not find clarity so long as the murderer that is Finn’s killer has not met justice for his actions.

_Why did you save him?_

There is little comfort to be found in knowing that his identity didn’t matter at the time of the attack. That she would have acted out in the face of danger, regardless of who required saving; that her instincts to help the helpless will prevail each and every time.

It is only now that she realizes Poe had been right in his claim of her hypocrisy. She wants justice, but she doesn’t know what she’s willing to do, how far she’s willing to go – if justice is to be done, must she allow the heavens to fall as well? Shall she continue with the charade that she is a willing volunteer, that she has no agenda beneath what she asserts is her duty?

 _But_ , can she really stop now? Now that their eyes are on her for saving one of the nobles? Now that _Kylo Ren_ knows who she is, _owes_ her? Now…

_Now what?_

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There is a knock to her door and she rises with no difficulty, no grumbling as she rolls off of her bed. If there is one thing she can admit to, it’s that her quarters in the castle _is_ far more comfortable than the modest room she maintains at the Rebel estate. Putting a robe over herself, she calls for the person to enter.

“Good morning, my lady captain,” the young servant girl greets, passing through the door while holding up a folded dress in her arms. “The queen requests that you wear this in the meeting with the Esstran nobles happening in an hour’s time at the main dining hall.”

It only takes one look at the orange garb in the handmaiden’s arms for Rey to decide she is not wearing it. Still, she offers a polite smile to the younger woman and takes the offered wears. When she leaves, she will shove it at the back of the same wardrobe that the maroon gown is also in. A queen’s _request_ is not necessarily an _order_ , and Rey is sure to exploit the difference as much as she can when it comes to Leia’s attempts to style her.

“Shall I prepare your bath for you, my lady captain?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Rey replies, stifling a yawn. “I can prepare it myself. Thank you.”

After the servant girl curtsies and scurries off, Rey tosses the gown to the side and heads to the private bath adjoined to her quarters – yet another luxury she’s afforded as a guest of the queen. Having taken up residence at the castle at the queen’s behest while the marriage provisions are being navigated, she hasn’t returned to the training grounds and living quarters of the Rebels in a few days. Rey handed her responsibilities to one of her lieutenants, while Poe assured the queen that they can function with just one captain as their load lightened after the war. Perhaps, if Leia would allow it, she could return to the estate and check up on the goings-on of her division.

Once she finishes with her brief bath, Rey dresses herself in what she deems is appropriate for her stature. She is not a courtier, but a _captain_ , and she will not indulge in unnecessary frivolities such as dresses when not necessary. Rey puts on a plain shirt, riding pants and her favorite training boots – newly polished as to appear presentable. Over her top she wears a leather vest, with a few merits attached to signify her rank. Her attire is simple but formal enough for meeting purposes. Finally, Rey ties her hair up in a lazy knot. She doesn’t bother with powdering her face; she doesn’t have to as her intention is no longer to catch anyone’s attention – she knows she has _his_.

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When she enters the main dining hall, she is neither early nor late. There are a few seats occupied – nobles interacting with councilmen, but the queen has yet to arrive. She sees some of the prospects chatting with the nobles over bread and tea, and she finds herself searching for _him_ , for Kylo Ren, but he is not there. Not yet, at least.

She is led to her assigned seat, on the left side of the queen’s at one end. Across her is Officer Threepio, drinking a blend of tea, and overseeing papers as he sips his hot drink. She has a gut feeling that what she wants to know is in one of those reports, and never one to deny her instincts, Rey asks, “Did they find anything from the man responsible for the attack last night?”

“Why, captain!” Threepio sputters, placing the stack down on the table. “I am not authorized to answer your question, I’m afraid.”

“But Poe, he—” She is cut off by the screeching of the chairs against the floor as the people rise. Rey internally groans as she misses her opportunity to know exactly how the interrogation happened; she is at least fifty percent sure that the queen would not delve into the details as she addresses the truth to the nobles. Still, she stands, follows the customary greeting for the monarch as she enters the room.

Greetings and pleasantries are exchanged as Leia passes the guests on her way to her end of the table. Rey awaits for her turn to bow – not _curtsy_ – and she sees Threepio compiling parchments while waiting for the queen to make her way to them. She tries to sneak a peek, but Threepio catches her, and Rey looks away, feigns innocence, and she hears the intelligence officer take a deep breath, readying his speech to scold the younger captain, but luckily for her, Leia arrives before he can begin his tirade.

“Good morning, your highness!” Threepio, ever enthusiastic, hails. He hands over the compiled papers to the queen and says, “I have reviewed the report from last night’s interrogation and marked the important notes for this morning proceedings.”

Leia smiles, glancing at the parchments in her hand. When she finally lifts her gaze it is to look at Rey and the queen offers the captain a sly grin, something _knowing_ lying underneath the confidence.

“I trusted you rested well as I _ordered_ , Rey?”

She is implying that her words are absolute, that the request for Rey’s attire wasn’t a mere request at all – both last night and this morning. The subtle callout makes Rey blush in embarrassment for herself, and she turns her head away from Leia’s stare – and it is through this motion that she meets Kylo Ren’s eyes instead, gaze intent on her even as she catches him in the act. _When did he come in?_ He doesn’t back down, and there is something in how he looks at her, an intensity she cannot place. He is at least four seats away, on the opposite side of the table; beside him is one other noble, the first man she danced with at the ball, nattering on with a surly expression.

“—says here that the man was a volunteer during the war?”

“He would not give his name initially, but General Ackbar recognized him. The General was able to supply information that both he and his wife had been in the Takodana region at the final battle before the armistice. His wife perished in that very same battle, so his motivations are clear to us.”

“Revenge,” Leia states, and Rey snaps her head back to look at the queen as she hears the word said out loud. “If we seek to avenge each and every loss, the war will never end.”

The sudden quietness in Leia’s tone brings a pang to Rey’s chest. Without asking, the younger woman _knows_ that the queen is thinking of her late husband, who had died at the beginning of the war. And again, Rey is stricken with the reminder of her hypocrisy, as Poe had rightfully claimed. Who is she to seek vengeance? Who is she to be selfish when there are others who have suffered greater losses? She may have lost a friend, but there are those – such as Queen Leia – who had lost their world.

Sensing her distress, Leia reaches out to Rey. “Are you feeling well, my dear?”

Perhaps she _hadn’t_ thought it through after all. She is overcome with the desire to run away, to tell the queen that she no longer wishes to push through with the marriage provision, that as there are enough volunteers to take her stead, she isn’t necessary, not anymore.

 _But_ , there is still a small voice in her head, a withering flame asking her to be selfish, to hold on. That she had already let go of so much, of so many hopes when she was younger. That she had been willing to give up her own life as she tried to become a perfect soldier for their kingdom. That this one time she chooses to hold on to the memory of Finn – that this is _hers_ to bear in her heart, at least until justice has been delivered.

It is not _revenge_ , Rey finally decides, but _justice_ – and perhaps that makes all the difference; perhaps that is enough to validate her feelings. Perhaps it is all she needs to tell herself to convince herself she is _right_.

“Yes, my queen,” she answers, “I’m just lightheaded from not yet consuming anything yet, most likely.”

“Oh! Well, yes, we should get a move on with this morning’s debriefing.”

Leia finally takes her seat at the end, and the rest of the guests return to their chairs a few seconds afterward. Rey gets to eat her morning meal by herself, quiet as those around her continue to converse. Every now and then, though unsolicited, her thoughts would return to _him_ , and so she would find herself looking up to him – and each time, without fail, he would be looking at her as well. And his gaze, never wavering in its intensity, would stir something in her – something she could not name.

When Leia finishes her meal, she rises, and the others follow in courtesy, but she raises a hand, gesturing for everyone to return to their seats.

“I must apologize for the events which transpired at the ball last night. However, the treaty remains intact as the attack had not been realized – and it is thanks to the fast action taken upon by one of our Rebels.” Rey breathes out in relief, thankful that Leia doesn’t add unnecessary attention to her – though everyone present knows that it had been her anyway. “In any case, the man behind the attack was brought into questioning last night and his sentence has been set to four months of imprisonment, then banishment from the capital. If there is any of you who would like to question the imposed penalty, I would like to hear it now.”

There are no hands that rise, and Leia nods to herself, continuing, “I also would like to remind our esteemed guests from Esstran of the scheduled afternoon tea in the central gardens of the castle with the volunteer prospects. Though, you are all free to interact with each other now and until then, as you already have been doing, I can surmise. I will take my leave now, but please do tell any of my staff if you require anything.”

Now, everyone moves to stand as the queen walks away, personal guards in tow. Rey follows the trail of the queen’s outer coat with her eyes as it drags across the floor. When she looks up, she sights Kylo Ren – and again, like every time before, Kylo Ren’s sights are set on her.

And it brings back the question she has been asking since last night: _now what?_

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Jessika Pava is one of Rey’s few friends in the capital. She had once tried to join the Rebels, but was disallowed by her father, a member of the queen’s council, as he did not want his daughter to directly partake in the war. Rey had been the one to break the news to Jessika that she could not process her application due to her father’s influence, and the queen had consented to her father’s request. And after the initial anger that Jessika displayed, the woman had resigned herself to helping the war efforts in other ways, by pursuing curative studies to aid the wounded soldiers who had been sent back to D’Qar.

She is one of the smartest and most diligent women Rey has the pleasure to personally be acquainted with, and Rey has no doubt that Jessika would have made a fine Rebel – and that she has the makings of a fine bride as one of the volunteers present in the dining hall. Jessika gravitates to Rey’s side after the queen leaves, and engages the Rebel captain in a hushed conversation.

“So,” Jessika says, eyebrows knit. “I have been talking to the Esstran nobles and – _did you know_? How drastically different their culture is from ours?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, they are _savage_. For one, they still allow duels as a valid basis for settling disagreements. They also allow _murderers_ to run free so long as they can justify their actions. Though rare, they are legally allowed to commit patricide in order to take over the estate—”

“ _What_?”

“I know! It’s terrifying, isn’t it?” Rey isn’t convinced that her friend is scared at all; rather, Jessika sounds almost _thrilled_ at the prospect – though it must be due to her receiving new knowledge and not the actual details that have been handed to her. “And yet here they are, acting so civilized! They are not in their own land, so they must adapt to our own ethos, but can you imagine how it will be for us when we go to Esstran to comply with the required two weeks in their home?”

“I imagine it would be quite the scare,” Rey tells her. They had all been briefed about the provisions of the marriage – and while the union is mostly a formality and not necessitated by actual emotions between the two spouses, they are still required to be in the presence of one another for at least one month in the entire year; two weeks spent in Ileenium and another two weeks in Esstran.

“Oh, I wish I had the training of a Rebel, then _I_ wouldn’t have to fear for myself,” Jessika sighs. “Unlike you, Rey. You wouldn’t need anyone to protect you. If my father finds out about how it actually is like in Esstran, he would have me pulled out of the selection pool for sure.”

It _does_ alarm Rey, the new knowledge presented to her. It would mean that those from Esstran believe they are defensible in killing – even outside the complications of war. What does that make of the Knights in front of them? What does that mean for the justice Rey wishes to bring down upon one of them, if their very definition of what is _right_ isn’t the same to begin with?

 _No_ – Rey steels herself. She will _not_ make excuses for the enemy. Instead, she refocuses on the conversation, asks out of concern for her friend, “Will you tell him? Your father, I mean.”

Jessika looks almost haughty as she replies, “Of course not.”

The Rebel Captain raises a brow at this. “And why not?”

“Because,” Jessika says, a mischievous twinkle in her eye, “I already have my eyes on someone. And someone, my good friend, seems to have their eyes on you, too.”

“Jess—” Rey starts, but is cut off by the outspoken woman.

“They haven’t stopped talking about you, Rey. The nobles are all interested in knowing who you are!”

“I know that—”

“Except this one particular noble – his name is Hux, if I recall correctly – when I came up to him, he looked like he had something lodged up his – _anyway_ , he doesn’t seem to be too fond of you. He only kept grumbling about how you were probably a sorceress, a secret practitioner of the old dark arts—”

“He believes in _the Force_?” Rey chokes back a laugh. “That _I_ use it? Me? Honestly!”

“I know!” Jessika giggles. “He said you enchanted his friend, that he’s now infatuated with you.”

Rey lips twist into an awkward smile. “I’m sure he isn’t. Nobody here knows me. I’m no one. To them, at least.”

Jessika places her hand on Rey’s wrist, gripping gently and applying enough pressure to squeeze the other woman in a manner meant to be encouraging – but it isn’t. It isn’t when Rey can _feel_ what Jessika is going to say.

“Not to _Kylo Ren_.”

 

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She sees him from a good distance away, ending his own conversation with another noble and making his way towards her and Jessika. He acts as if he can hear them, as if he knows it is his cue to appear before them and validate what Jessika means to imply.

And Rey is _not ready_ to face him again, not when she knows who he is supposed to be.

She tells Jessika that she has forgotten that she has errands to run for the day over at the Rebel estate – which isn’t much of a lie – and that she will see her again for the scheduled afternoon tea. It is embarrassing how she exits, running with her tail between her legs, but she simply _cannot_ handle Kylo Ren at the moment. Not when she is unsure, questioning her own motivations when she should be acting with a clear mind.

There are roundabout routes she takes to reach the stables. Her own war horse neighs in recognition of its owner, and Rey reaches a hand out to caress its mane. She unties her horse from the post and surefootedly mounts, taking the reins in both hands. With a practiced control that makes her one of the best Rebel riders – perhaps only second to her co-captain Poe – she steers away from the stables and orders the horse to go faster; to gallop out of the castle and into the city, the wind blowing against her face, her hair loosening and billowing behind her.

Rey remembers the first time she had mounted a horse. It had been after she volunteered to fight. She had left Jakku atop a horse, riding at full speed to the capital as they couldn’t afford to waste time before they began training the recruits. Since then she had associated riding with the feeling of freedom, with the feeling of _letting go_.

 _But_ – there it is again, that voice in the back of her head, telling her to hold on for once. It’s Finn’s voice, faded in her memories, becoming fainter and fuzzier as each day passes, as she forgets how he sounds, telling her _hold on_.

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The Rebel estate had been built about three decades ago, overseen by the newly inducted queen’s husband – the very first Rebel captain, Han Solo. It has an open training grounds that spans over an acre, accommodating the various specializations of battle. There is also a garden, where the Rebels grow their own food, and a stretch of forestry: trees and an assortment of shrubberies surrounding the rest of the area until it ends at the gated perimeter. At the center of the estate are the living quarters, comprising of three floors – the top-most is reserved for the captains and their lieutenants, the second floor is occupied by the other Rebels as well as trainees, and finally the ground level acts as the communal living space. There are other parts of the estate as well: the armory, the stables, workshops for blacksmiths and carpentry, among others. In terms of luxuries, not much are provided for the Rebels as the primary aim of the estate is to create a center of operations for the elites of their kingdom. Instead they are all sufficient and independent, working together and sharing chores to make the most out of the living arrangements.

At the top most floor of the living quarters, the hallway is lined with portraits of previous captains, beginning with one shared depiction of the queen, her husband and her brother, the three heroes of Ileenium. Overall there are only ten frames, the latest being Rey’s – and each time she passes it on her way to her room, she suppresses a shudder; she had never really liked seeing her likeness. Beside hers is Poe’s portrait, and two frames away from his is another shared depiction – that of his parents.

It is along this corridor, before the portrait of Poe’s parents, that she stumbles upon hiim, who is startled at first – and then maddened at her presence.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, cross but not _too_ cross. His tone is reprimanding, but his concern is still evident, shines through despite himself. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the castle with the other volunteers?”

“I’m not required until after midday,” she says, “I… I couldn’t stay there any longer.”

“Because?”

“Because—” She thinks up of a lie, of more lies connected to yet another one she has already told him. She thinks of how _easy_ it is to be spurious, to deny Poe of the truth of her intentions – and she thinks of how she can no longer keep with the pretense when she isn’t sure of her own beliefs. Poe, after all they have been through together, doesn’t deserve anything less than the truth from her; and the guilt of lying to him catches up to her finally. “I don’t know.”

She breaks down, allowing herself to show weakness to her closest friend, the only other person who understands her grief. Poe is quick to pull her into an embrace, wrapping his arms around the younger woman he has witnessed transition from a scrawny desert child into a strong warrior in her own right.

“I don’t know what I was thinking, Poe!” she cries freely in his hold. “I didn’t know what was going through my head at the time—”

“You were thinking of Finn,” he supplies while rubbing her back, soothing her with his ministrations. “I’m not angry with you, Rey. No one is forcing you into this marriage but yourself. Just say the word and the queen will have you pulled out of the selection pool.”

“How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“ _Forgive_ ,” Rey clarifies, hiccuping. “How do you forgive the monster that took Finn away from us? You loved him, too.”

“Because by that definition we must be monsters as well,” Poe answers her. “How many have we both killed on the battlefield? How many of their people have we taken down? We were at _war_ , Rey, and we cannot control who lives or who dies.” He ends with a sigh, “I may have loved him, but he chose _you_. You have to honor his memory, Rey. Finn fought for peace. Now that we finally have it, we have to continue the fight to keep it.

“It’s a simple choice, Rey,” he concludes, pushing her away and making her face him. “Live in the darkness of grudges and want revenge or accept this new peace and _move on_.”

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Hold on or move on?

Finn’s voice is in the back of her head, a withering flame, still, whispering: _hold on_.

But while in Poe’s arms she hears new advice, a chance for a new life: _move on._

Hold on or move on?

_It’s a simple choice, Rey._

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She changes from her riding clothes into her most comfortable wears of grey long sleeves and loose pants and watches over the daily drills at the training grounds. Poe is at her side, commenting on the improvement of the newest batch of recruits. Most of them had been transferees from the army upon recommendation of the General; the others, on the other hand, jumped straight into the application for becoming a Rebel, passing sets of vigorous tests to be even considered into the elite group. Rey smiles fondly as she remembers her own trials – it had been exactly as they briefed her: trying. But Rey had wanted to be part of something, wanted a purpose in her new life, and when Rey sets her sights on a goal, she will give it her all to achieve it. She had become a Rebel, rising through the ranks with every battle she joined until she became a Captain.

They move from the archery field to the sparring grounds, and there one male, Rey’s peer in age, challenges her to a mock duel.

“Listen, buddy,” Poe laughs, “believe me when I tell you that you wouldn’t last a minute in the ring with her.”

“No, no,” Rey says with a smile, “this should be interesting. If he wants to challenge me, I’ll accept it.”

“I will not hear the end of it if the queen sees a bruise or even a scratch on your pretty little face.”

“That is, if he even gets to me at all.” Rey’s tone is teasing, playful. She turns back to the overconfident man – a new recruit – and nods, signals for him to follow her into the sparring area. She removes her boots and picks up her weapon of choice: an ironwood staff. The other man chooses a practice longsword, his grip self-assured. In the center of the ring, she faces him, staff still at her side. “What’s your name?”

“Bastian, my dear captain,” he answers with a smirk that is in no way attractive.

“Alright, Bastian.” Rey puts herself in the starting stance, staff raised and held with both hands in front of her. “Show me what you’ve got.”

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Once again, Rey has to concede to Poe being right: the poor recruit doesn’t even last a minute.

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Invigorated from the activities of the early afternoon, Rey returns to the castle. She’s already running late, having lost track of time as more recruits wanted to have a go in the ring with the young female captain. Poe had been laughing as she defeated each and every challenger and Rey had enjoyed the spars immensely.

And it is just her luck that it begins to rain when she is still ten minutes away from the castle. She prays they cancel the tea session because the central garden couldn’t be of use in this weather, but then she remembers that they could easily move the gathering to another smaller hall. Groaning, she grips the reins tighter and urges the horse to move faster, carefully maneuvering through the wet road so as not to slip.

When she arrives at the stables, she is quick to unmount, to tie her horse to its post. She is drenched from both the torrential downpour and her own sweat, and she is already at least half an hour late to the small get-together arranged by the queen. She is still in need of a proper shower to wash off the grit stuck to her skin, but she doesn't exactly have the time to be thorough with her cleaning. To save face, maybe she should wear a dress; finally indulge Leia’s requests and appease the monarch.

As she runs through the hallways to get to her room on the east wing of the castle, she apologizes to each staff she encounters because she’s _dripping wet_ , dirtying the floors with mud still stuck from her boots and with water being wrung out from her clothes as she sprints. She rounds a corner and bumps into someone else, stumbling from the loss in momentum, falling back down.

When she looks up, it is Kylo Ren staring down at her.

“My captain,” he greets, offering a gloved hand to help her stand back to her feet. “Are you alright?”

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Hold on or move on?

_It’s a simple choice, Rey._

Hold on or move on?

_If we seek to avenge each and every loss, the war will never end._

Hold on or move on?

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She takes his hand and feels the contradiction of his grip: how it is firm yet _gentle_. Now standing up close, Rey remembers just how _tall_ he is, learns just how much space he occupies in the otherwise empty corridor. He fills her senses with his presence, and Rey knows that she will never hate anyone more than she hates him in the moment.

This is Finn’s killer in front of her, and she wants nothing more than to be at peace – but _how_? What is she to do? _How does she forgive?_

“Are you alright?” he repeats the question, voice tinged with the same awkward notes from the previous night.

“Yes,” she answers, masking her true emotions as she is searching for _something_ – anything in his eyes that could possibly make her feel differently, that could possibly make her feel something other than contempt. She is desperate to find anything at all. “Thank you, my lord.”

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_Now what?_

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my personal notes, this chapter is summarized as: "It takes words from Leia, Jess and Poe to make Rey realize she's an idiot."
> 
> The shift in Rey might seem sudden or unnatural, but what she lacked previously was perspective. Her minds were occupied solely by her own loss. It takes Leia to remind her that she is not the only one who needs healing. Jess allows for context of actions, makes Rey question what it means to be morally in the right. Finally, Poe gives her spiritual direction in the sense that he reminds Rey what it is she should be really striving for. To me it's more than enough to make Rey rethink her decisions, but if you feel that it isn't, please feel free to argue with me about it! Ha ha.
> 
> I'm really inspired by music when I write, and I want to share with you guys some of the songs I played on loop as I wrote down the important plot points -- most of which have yet to happen! If you want to take a shot at guessing where this fic is heading, you can listen to the mix [here](http://8tracks.com/kaathiiee/the-world-in-its-dark-grace). :)  
> (Hint: the last song is how I would summarize their feelings for each other as their relationship progresses)
> 
> Thoughts? Comments? Clarifications? Don't be scared to hit me up! You can also ask me questions over at my [tumblr](http://kaathiiee.tumblr.com). :p


	4. One Day

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Back in Jakku, Rey had known starvation like the back of her hand. Every day she went on without any form of sustenance was a day spent wondering what it meant to go on, what was supposed to be waiting for her should she get out of the desolate lands in the southern reaches of the kingdom. To aid her get through the days, she dreamt. In her dreams she imagined vast waters instead of vast dry soil, of cool depths made of endless blue instead of yellow.

The ocean was something she’d heard of only in stories spoken to her by the kinder elders in her village, of those who weren’t born in Jakku itself and had lived elsewhere before moving – the heavens know why they wanted to live in Jakku; it was something beyond Rey’s understanding. According to them, the western end of the kingdom bordered a _sea_ , and past that was even _more_ water, a massive body called an ocean. And even farther were new lands, other kingdoms who took ships to travel, to trade.

She would dream about travelling on one of those ships, of getting as far away as she could from Jakku. If no one was to come for her, then maybe she would go herself. _One day_ , she kept telling herself, _one day she’d finally be able to go somewhere else._

But – she couldn’t leave even if she wanted to. She had debts to repay to Unkar Plutt for taking care of her when she was younger, for feeding her when no one else was capable of. Unkar Plutt was a tyrant in charge of collecting the crown’s taxes from the people, but everyone knew he was stealing a portion out of it. Despite it all, Rey couldn’t stand up to Plutt even if she hated him so. She was technically under his employment, and for the most part, he was the only reason she was still alive.

In the mornings, she would leave at dawn with her walking staff to go to the badlands known as the Graveyard.  Years ago, a kingdom faraway had wanted to claim land from Ileenium and decided to cross through the South, through Jakku. They were prepared to fight, but they had not been prepared for the harsh and heated landscape. Tens of thousands of soldiers died still wearing their armors and most of their weapons saddled to their sides. As metal was a rare commodity in these parts as the kingdom’s supply came from the mountains of Esstran which were far up North, those from Jakku capitalized on the undiscovered resource of metal buried beneath layers upon layers of sand. Plutt was the one to create the system of bartering for the metal as he was the one who knew the few merchants that came through Jakku. No one was pleased, but no one could argue with him in fear of the mercenaries in his service.

Those who weren’t working on farming moisture through succulents went to the Graveyard – Rey included. There were stories that the land was haunted, that when the wind blew, the cries of the fallen soldiers howled as well; that there were those who saw soldiers still standing, walking to finish their mission even in death. Only a few were truly brave enough to traverse the badlands. Many had been lost in the storms – the accompanying tales saying that they were actually taken by the soldiers reaching from the ground – but even then they continued to risk their lives as Plutt paid them well enough for the metals they were able to scavenge.

Rey would spend her days toiling, digging away as she searched for the scraps she could trade in for food; all the while dreaming of escape, of the oceans that perhaps awaited her one day. Her daydreaming had been the only thing to remind her to push through, to not give up on herself when everybody else had.

_One day…_

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“If you don’t mind me asking, my captain,” Kylo Ren says as he eases his hand out of her hold and places it back to his side, “but shouldn’t you be at the gathering?”

She feels something unsettling as he talks to her, as he initiates a conversation when she should be off running back to her quarters to wash up; when she could think of at least ten other places she’d rather be than in front of him again – including the Graveyard. She is late, and the time continues to tick, and she doesn’t exactly need a reason to add to Leia’s grievances against her. And if she ignores him and just leave, he would _definitely_ think of it as rude and tell Leia. Rey has been so far mostly annoyed with the Queen’s favor, but her disfavor is something she _fears_.

“I should ask you the same thing, my lord,” she answers. When she thinks about her words, she decides it had been a safe and civilized response, clear of any vitriol in her tone. _Good_. She doesn’t need him to know what she knows of him. And she doesn’t need to give him reason to suspect her of anything else other than being a volunteer in search of a husband.

“I was on my way to the venue, actually.”

“Well, so was I.”

He raises a brow at her, disbelieving, and Rey is reminded of her improper state. She is still wet, the moisture from her clothes dripping to the floor, her cloak all crumpled in her movements in and out of the rain.

“I was just heading to my room first,” she explains, “to wash and change first into something more decent. The queen would not approve of it if I came to her party looking like this.” She gestures all over herself, at the dirt-ridden outfit she is wearing.

“Personally, I see nothing wrong with your appearance,” he says in turn. She feels a shiver as he gazes at her, as his eyes take in the details of her – but Rey accounts it to the sudden draught that passes them in the hallway. To feel something from _him –_ other than her derision? _Never._ “In Esstran, we believe in the importance of duty, and your appearance is a reflection of the work you have been doing. To my knowledge, you are a Captain of the Rebels, and I can infer that you have been out training before riding back here to the castle. ”

“I could just have been out riding, my lord.”

“Yes, you could have,” he concedes, “but that would not explain the bruises.”

He lifts his hand again and reaches for her neck. She feels it hovering over the spot at the junction of her neck and her shoulder for a good while before two fingers press down near the thin ties of her cloak, right over her flesh. She flushes at his cool touch, though indirect with his leather gloves, as she had not been expecting it. No one from Ileenium would dare touch her – they all know better than to try the Captain – but this man from Esstran has the audacity to. When he applies pressure, she feels the light ache of the contusion and flinches imperceptibly, stepping back. With the distance between them returned, Rey has a feeling Kylo Ren isn’t about to apologize for breaching her personal space.

She has to _stop herself_. Her heart is beating fast beneath her chest, thumping uncontrollably in reaction to his touch. _It’s adrenaline_ , Rey reasons in her thoughts, _being close to the enemy does that._ Right after, however, Poe’s voice comes back and tells her that he is not the enemy, that she should learn to let bygones pass, and – _damn it, Poe, get out of my head!_

“If my lady captain would allow it,” his voice interrupts, and Rey looks back up at him and sees the retention of his cool façade, as though nothing had happened between them. She berates herself internally; it really could have been nothing to him. She has yet to understand how those from Esstran think and she has to stop letting him get to her. “I would like to escort you to your quarters.”

“My lord?”

“Is it improper for me to ask such here in Ileenium?”

“No, not at all.” In fact it is the norm for men to volunteer to aid women, but Rey has always been indignant over that expectation, always arguing that she is more than capable of walking herself. But again – if she refuses, it would be counted as an insult to their guest. She thinks of more excuses to ward him off, to make him let her go by herself. “It’s just that you are already late to the gathering, my lord, and I would not want to keep you.”

“Perhaps I have made myself sound so noble,” he says with a chuckle that surprises Rey with its bemusement. “I was thinking that I could wait for you as you make yourself decent and we could come to the gathering together. It would spare us both the embarrassment of arriving by ourselves.”

“I suppose I cannot object to your request if that is the case, my lord,” she resigns, her resentment turning into more of annoyance. He nods, looking pleased with himself, and strides to her side. She allows herself to place her palm over the forearm he’s raised to escort her. It is nothing short of _weird_ , how every time they are in contact Rey feels something jolt within her – _the enemy; he is the enemy, Rey_ , _that’s why._ “Though, if any of this dirt gets on your surcoat, you have no one to blame but yourself.”

“Please, my captain, call me Ren.”

_Ren. Kylo Ren. The man who killed Finn. Ren._

She cannot fully reconcile her vision of a merciless murderer with the actuality that is the awkward man beside her.

“If you wish, my lord,” she says, “it is only fair that you may call me Rey as well.”

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Rey really shouldn’t be surprised.

She had been trudging through the Graveyard since she was old enough to navigate it on her own. The badlands were a battlefield of man against nature and she had fought the sand storms with the desperation to live another day, to see her dreams come through _one day._ And when she was able to leave, it was only to see a different kind of battle; to help her kingdom win a war. Man against man, clashing steel against steel. When she closes her eyes, she can stills hear the stampede of horses, the banging of the war drums. When she closes her eyes, she sees the rain of arrows and the shouts of _find cover!_ When she closes her eyes, she sees all those men and women, her fellow soldiers, dead. Not quite the skeletons she’d find inside the metals in the desert, but flesh continuing to bleed out and staining the ground.

It is one conflict after another in Rey’s life and she really shouldn’t be surprised. In her life, the wars never end, and figuring out what to do with Kylo Ren is the one ongoing in her mind.

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Again, Rey really shouldn’t be surprised.

Of course Queen Leia would have a dress brought to her room with a handwritten note that expressly orders her to wear it, seal of the crown and all.

_Of course._

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When she comes out of her quarters, he is right there where she had left him: outside her door. He is a few feet away from the burning candle hanging on the wall, near enough for the orange ruddiness to reach him, to bathe him in its glow. It is in this light that Rey actually _looks_ at him, takes note of the features on his façade – the long face, the mussed hair, the faraway look in his dark eyes that is telling of the many thoughts going through his head. He is handsome in his own right, she must admit, but Rey knows better than to be deceived by externalities.

“Are you done, my captain?”

His voice cuts through her ruminations. If he had caught her staring at him, he doesn’t bring it up; only offers his arm to her once more, as he had done before on the way to her room. His discretion is a silent gesture that she appreciates and she replaces her hand over his sleeve silently, nodding as a confirmation of her readiness to depart.

“To be frank, I’m surprised with your attire,” he begins conversation once they take a step forward, tone polite.

“How so?”

“This morning you had been in pants when the rest of the ladies were in dresses.”

“I see it as a matter of practicality.”

“And yet here you are in a dress.”

“The Queen ordered me to wear it.”

“The Queen?” Kylo Ren’s voice hitches as his curiosity shows. “Why would the Queen _order_ you to wear a dress?”

“I would guess to conform with the other volunteer brides,” Rey supplies, “I suppose she doesn’t want anyone in particular to stand out any more than the others.”

“But you already have – stood out, I mean.”

“My lord,” Rey begins, knowing what exactly he is pertaining to, but she is cut off by Kylo Ren before she can speak her own mind. He slips his arm away and her hand drops back to her side. He is facing her now, standing straight, unmoved before her.

“ _Rey_ ,” he says her name, and it is awful in its intonation of the syllable that is her entity. It is the only thing that is fully _hers_ and on his lips it sounds wrong, as though he has stolen her being by speaking her name. “I have been meaning to thank you for yesterday.”

Had it really only been yesterday? Had it just been a day since she had known nothing but loathing, wanted nothing else but revenge?

“You… I am in debt to you, Rey. I owe you my life.”

“You, you owe me _nothing_ —” She catches herself before she says any more. She hears the lie she has just spoken out loud and is sickened by the thought. How could she have forgotten? It had only been a _day_. She catches herself right before the tears fall and she is quick to turn around, to face away from him so he does not see her distress. Kylo Ren _does_ owe her – he owes her justice for Finn’s death.

_Finn..._

“I owe you my life,” he insists, reaching for her hand. The cool leather of his glove shocks her back into the moment, out of her short-lived reverie, and when she looks back at him she sees that he is no longer standing, towering over her, but instead bent on his knee, debased before her. “ _It is yours_.”

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On their trip back to the capital, while resting the horses which carried the wagons ridden by the new recruits like Rey, the man who had taken her away from the southern land explained to her how she had the option to directly enlist for service in the military or to try to become part of the elites, the Rebels. He had approached her as she sat on the side, observing as the other recruits talked to one another. Rey had heard stories of the Rebels when she was younger, of how they had been the ones to chase away the bad emperor. She thought of it, of how she wanted to think that she could be good enough to be one of them, but before she could even tell the man what was in her head, he had said, _Someone as scrawny as you would never make it past the first test, though._

And _oh_ , how she had been filled with the need to prove him wrong. She had stood, arms crossed over her chest, and challenged the man to a mock fight. She had not survived the harshness of Jakku just to be told that she wouldn’t survive in some _test_.

The man thought himself so important, called himself a _Big Deal,_ but Rey couldn’t stand his arrogance any more as he tried to talk himself out of fighting with her. She picked up her staff and barked at him, _find something to defend yourself with or fight me with your bare hands – you choose, Big Deal._

The only other wooden weapon was a staff similar to hers. He was not going to pick up a metal sword to fight against her; it would be unfair. As soon as he had the weapon in hand, Rey jumped, lashing out, inside thinking of how wrong he was to think so little of her. Her limbs were nimble in her movement, always ready to accommodate her surroundings as the sands would often shift. Her arms were steady as she wielded her own weapon – she had never used it as a weapon before, not really, but she had learned how to defend herself with it nonetheless. She had developed her strength by carrying not only her own weight through the badlands, but that of the heavy metal scraps she would salvage from beneath the dirt. She had her own form of training throughout the years and Rey would _not_ be defeated by _this man_.

It was obvious by his half-hearted movements that he wasn’t trying, wasn’t taking her seriously. If anything, this only served to infuriate her even more. She feinted to move to the side but instead ducked, sweeping his feet with her staff. It had caught him by surprise and he had fallen, crashing loudly to the ground accompanied by a bellow. By now, the other recruits and soldiers had come to watch as one of their own who claimed to be someone great was overpowered by a _nobody_.

Rey felt proud that she had been able to stand up for herself, and her fellow recruits were coming up to her in awe, praising her for her guts and her strength.

 _You were able to beat a Rebel lieutenant!_ The crowd parted for a man on a horse. He stopped before them and unmounted; in one deft motion jumping off and helping the man she had just toppled down stand up on his feet. The pins on his chest indicated he was of a high rank, but Rey wasn’t sure what position he held exactly. _That’s impressive. Who are you?_

_Rey, Sir._

_And do you have a last name, Rey?_

_Those who don’t have families don’t have a name to carry, Sir._

_Ah._ The man grimaced, but continued, _Well, maybe before you argue with Finn here next time, you’ll consider that you two have at least that in common._

When she turned in place, she saw Finn – the man she had bested – beaming at her.

 _You got me there_ , he laughed, and she found it contagious; how his smile reached his eyes, how the skin around his eyes would crinkle when he did. She couldn’t help but chuckle as well. _Scrap what I said earlier. You just proved to everyone here that you’ll make a fine Rebel one day._ He puts his hand out for her to take, for her to shake and said, _Nice to meet you, Rey._

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Marriage, Rey knows, is not always about love.

She loved Finn, she did; perhaps not in the way he wanted her to, but she loved him still. And that was enough – for the both of them. Marriage is not always about love. Sometimes it’s just about having hope, of having something to look forward to at the end of the war. They were both orphans, abandoned as children, and they had always confided in one another the mutual loneliness they felt. They had understood one another, found something kindred within one another that kept them close; made them the best of friends.

 _When the war is over,_ she recollects Finn’s voice, soft and gentle. This is the vow he makes to her on a quiet hill away from the din of war, in the early morning before a battle begins. _When the war is over, we’ll have a family, Rey. Bigger than you could imagine. We’ll make up a last name for all of us. Or we could steal Poe’s last name if he lets us have it._

Poe had rolled his eyes. _Not on your life, buddy._

Unperturbed, Finn continued, _We’ll take in anyone who needs a family. All those kids that we were once before. We’ll give them a home. All we ever wanted when we were younger, we’ll give it to them. A home where they will never feel lonely or unloved._

 _We will_ , she answered, promising it to him in turn, _when the war is over, one day, we will._

 _Is that it?_ Poe asked, tapping his foot impatiently, constantly checking the sky for the sun. _Sappy dreams instead of declarations of love? Okay, whatever, I proclaim you two married. We’ll file the papers when we get back to the capital, but for now you two can believe you’re legally bound. Go kiss your bride and be on your merry way, Finn._

She remembers Finn pulling her into a hug, planting a kiss on her forehead, before she pushed him away and said, _Go_ _back to your bastion before your commander notices your absence._

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What she did not know she was saying was this:

_Go to your death._

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“Consider this my formal proposal,” Kylo Ren says, still not rising from his position on the ground, offering her the cordiality of the briefest of smiles – though, the gesture does nothing to quell the uneasiness she feels from his words. “I am the sole member of my house. There is no one else to share all the riches I had inherited, and I do not care for them, not really; they will be all yours. If you are my bride – everything you could ever want, you could have.”

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_We’ll give them a home. A home where they will never feel lonely or unloved. All we ever wanted when we were younger, we’ll give it to them._

_When the war is over, one day…_

_Go._

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“My lord?”

She hears her own voice wavering, feels her blood draining from her face. She doesn’t know why she isn’t saying _no_ or why she isn’t slashing at his neck with the blade she has holstered on her thigh beneath her dress. She doesn’t know what she’s looking for as she gazes into the darkness that is his eyes, the ones looking expectantly back up at her. She doesn’t know why she follows the slightest of his movements, why she looks down and watches as he licks and worries his bottom lip. She doesn’t know why she hasn’t run away from him yet. She doesn’t know when during their short conversation she stopped seeing him as a monster and instead saw him as a man, deceptively beautiful. She doesn’t know what she is doing and it is her fault; it is a mistake she isn’t keen on repeating anytime in the near future.

Regardless of her blunder, she is at least grateful that she’s learned some tact over the years of being a Rebel; that she’s picked up a few things about keeping herself collected from observing Leia’s dealings.

“I am flattered that you already think so highly of me – enough to consider me to be your… _wife_ ,” she continues, slipping her hand out of his gloved hold, prompting him to finally rise.

“But?”

“But it has only been _a day_.”

“And your point being?”

“We hardly know one another, for one!”

“I was not aware that the provisions of this marriage required the couple to _know_ one another.”

It _doesn’t_. Rey would have to concede to his point, but _still_. She hardly wants anything more to do with Kylo Ren, but she can’t just go on and tell him the truth in her mind: _you killed my husband and I wanted some form of retribution, but this peace is too fragile and not worth risking, and now I don’t know what to do with my previous plans of revenge._

When she is silent, still contemplating, he is the one to speak once more. “Be honest with me, Captain, when you volunteered, did you expect to marry out of love?”

Rey really should just say _no_ – to his question, to his proposal; but the _one_ syllable can’t even form on her tongue, and she feels betrayed by her own mouth.

“In Esstran, it is rare that marriages are anything more than plays for power,” Ren explains, “and I understand that in your kingdom your take on unions is different. If it is love you seek, _Rey_ —”

“If you are asking for my hand because of a life debt, my lord, then I clear you of it,” she cuts in harshly, finally finding words that do not work against her. Her heartbeat has yet to settle and her breaths have yet to even out, but she cannot find peace in his presence – she _cannot_. Her words come out with more vitriol than she intends, but she does not care enough to maintain her cool façade to try to change it. “Do not presume that I demand recompense for saving your life from an attacker. I took an oath to protect the kingdom and the interests of the crown, and it just so happens that you are important to the Queen as her guest. What I did last night was nothing more than my duty.”

When she finishes her short declamation, Kylo Ren remains unfazed.

“And this? This marriage – is it not your duty as well?”

She is _livid_ , enraged, and she knows it is showing through the flare of her nose, the clench of her fists. She knows that he knows of her anger and yet he continues to goad her, as though he is purposely giving her reason to find him more appalling than she already does.

He awaits a response, but she will not give him the satisfaction of one.

“Thank you for escorting me so far, Lord Ren,” she says with a mocking tone of finality as she steps back, “but I can manage my way to the venue by myself from here on.”

 She turns her heels and practically runs with how large she makes her strides to be. She needs all the distance she can get between the two of them, and when she rounds the corner and doesn’t hear any footsteps following behind her, she _sprints_.

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“Where have you been?” Jessika all but screeches when Rey finds a seat next to her friend. It is rather rude, given that Jessika had been in the middle of a conversation with another noble when Rey chose to barge in and sit at Jessika’s table. “You’re more than an hour late!”

“I was caught up in the rain,” Rey apologizes indolently.  “I had to take a detour to look pretty.”

“Oh darling, you look like you were caught up in a storm, not just the rain,” Jessika laughs, a twinkle in her voice. “I’m kidding. Look at you! Hardly a puff of powder on your face and yet you give all the other girls here serious competition.”

“I hardly count searching for a decent husband a competition.”

“Of course _you_ don’t because you have no shortage of admirers. But speaking of your admirers, Lord Mitaka and I here were just discussing one of them.”

In talking with Jessika Rey had forgotten about the noble across them, the one that was already there when she arrived. She had turned, opening her mouth to apologize, but stopped as she saw who Lord Mitaka is – the man she had danced with yesterday who failed in his attempts at flattery. She considers trying to greet him again, but ultimately decides against it. If he finds her behavior to be rude and indecent, then perhaps it would permanently keep him away from her. So instead she looks at Jessika again and raises a brow.

“Who?”

“Who else but Lord Ren?” Jessika’s eyes sweep over the room before she returns to the conversation. “Huh, he’s still not here. I had bet with Lord Hux that he would arrive when you would.”

“You bet with one of the nobles?”

“All good fun, I promise.”

“Well, I did meet him outside.”

“You did?”

“When I arrived,” Rey tells her friend. She finds it easy to tell Jessika almost anything, being her closest female friend. “He escorted me to my room and waited outside as I washed up. When I finished, he was going to escort me back to the venue, but then he…” Rey struggles with admitting it out loud. “Well, he _proposed_.”

“He _what_?” Jessika all but shouts, her brashness causing a ruckus that draws attention to their table. Thankfully, Mitaka is the one to apologize to everyone for Jessika’s outburst and to advise them to return to their own conversation. Jessika grumbles, “Great! Now I owe Hux.”

“You bet on that, too?” Rey cries, exasperated. “Jess!”

“All good fun!” Jessika assures her again. “ _Lord_ Hux is one of Lord Ren’s closest friends here. I mean, Hux says they’re not friends but they _are_.”

“What did you say?” Surprisingly, Mitaka is the divert back to the original topic and is the one to ask her this question. "To Ren's proposal, I mean."

Rey smiles, an attempt at candidness. “I declined.”

“Good,” Mitaka says with a shaky breath as he hears her response. “That’s good for you, Captain. I have a feeling someone of your moral standing would not want to be associated with the likes of him.”

 _The likes of him?_ Rey is curious by what Mitaka means, and before she can ask him to expound on what he has just said, Jessika speaks up.

“Kylo Ren, the master of the Knights of Ren, the sole member of the House of Snoke,” Jessika recounts, “and the only reason he’s the only one left is because _he killed his own father_.”

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was a difficult chapter for me to write because my own notes were all over the place. I apologize if it was confusing in any way due to the jumps to the past. Some clarifications on the tenses: when it is a narrative of a past event, it comes up in past tense; on the other hand if it is Rey's recollection, it maintains the present tense. Hope that helps!
> 
> Anyway, I bet you guys were not expecting the proposal to arrive this soon! But it's here, and it messes with Rey even more. Kylo Ren knows what he's doing and he definitely knows what it's doing to Rey. It may seem like quite a handful to put in so early into the story, but it's setting up for even more tension between them. We'll see where this goes in the next chapter... *cue evil music*
> 
> I sort of feel some nostalgia because my very first Reylo fic ([Open Your Eyes](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5571515)) was written back in December at the airport terminal while I was waiting for my flight to Tokyo. I'm headed there again to see the cherry blossoms (even if I have class on Monday, LOL) and here I am posting the fourth chapter to my sixth Reylo fic the night before my flight! I don't know, I just feel sentimental and all because it's only been three months and look at how our Reylo community has grown. :')
> 
> Lastly, I've put up some of the general information about this story over at my tumblr. (Beware: some spoilers, but nothing major!) You can find it [here](http://kaathiiee.tumblr.com/theworldinitsdarkgrace).
> 
> All your comments have absolutely pushed me to keep writing. Thank you so much for all the support you guys have been showing for this story! It's unbelievable how positive the feedback is so far and I worry over disappointing you readers when I update. ;_; But anyway, thank you so so much and I appreciate you all. :)


	5. Rumors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things will be clarified in this chapter. And a few more mysteries added. Ooh.
> 
> Also, if you missed it: in last chapter, Kylo Ren reaches out to brush a bruise on the side of Rey's neck. It's sort of a mirror scene to when he inspects her in the forest of Takodana. That was the intent. No one caught on to that and I feel like I failed getting that parallel across, but there it is! I tried. Woops.

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Like weeds in a garden, the rumors are quick to sprout.

Rey’s schedule, along with those of the other volunteers, is filled with meetings with the nobles from Esstran, personal conferences in which those from the selection pool are given an opportunity to get to know the Knights they could be engaged to in the future. The Queen and her advisers had set out to craft the timetables of the volunteers, stressing the importance of the very first union to arise from the new treaty and how the marriage has to actually _work_ , lest another form of conflict breaks out.  The marriage, while political in nature, is still meant to be viewed as inspirational, as something to remind the citizens that forgiveness and compassion is possible between two former enemies.

And Rey had wanted to take the chance to follow through with what she has consigned to be her duty: to find a suitable match to inspire peace. She had been prepared to set aside her own feelings of distrust and to start anew – as Jessika has somehow taught her to _try_ – but it only becomes increasingly difficult when each noble she meets with asks her the same question at the beginning of each meeting.

_Is it true? Is it true that you turned down Lord Ren?_

Her attempts at brushing off the memory and actually asking about the noble themselves is for naught. They are nothing but persistent in their quest to find the truth of the proposal of the infamous leader of the other Knights. Their curiosity of her identity had not been sated ever since the ball, ever since they witnessed her take down the terrorist and save one of their own. The only way to get them to stop, Rey finds, is to blatantly ask them to; and surprisingly they are courteous enough to consider her request, and so the meeting carries on as usual with Rey and her matched partner for the allotted time to find suitable prospects.

It all goes well, Rey thinks. In most conversations she forgets about Kylo Ren and is able to focus on the person in front of her. _Most,_ not all _._

There is the matter of Lord Hux.

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“I really would rather talk about _you_ ,” Rey says for the second time in the course of their conversation, deftly masking her irritation. Even with the exasperation stirring within her and the feeling of wanting to reach out and choke the man to her submission, she maintains her politeness. Ever since their first dance, the man in front of her hadn’t been her first choice in a prospect, but she still attends their scheduled conference – more out of curiosity, as she’s heard of her friend Jessika’s dealings with the orange-haired noble. “Lord Hux, what you’ve heard is far from the truth and is inconsequential to our agenda for this afternoon.”

“You honestly consider me to be a prospect?” He sneers, appearing disgusted with the thought of being matched up with the captain. “And I expected a woman of your standing to have more self-respect than to lie.”

“I do not discount you from the others,” Rey tries to amend, to steer the conversation back to a territory in which she has a semblance of control, though she knows it’s a difficult task given the impossibility of the man. With a sigh, she continues, “but this conference is meant for me to get to know you, regardless of marriage considerations.”

“It’s meant for _us_ to get to know _one another_ ,” Hux corrects in an all-too smug tone, “Captain, please do get your head out of wherever it is and consider that this marriage provision is not just about you.”

“I’m quite aware, my lord.” Rey bites back the rest of what she wishes to say. She has the impression that scathing remarks would simply bounce off of the insufferable noble.

The female captain leans back in her seat, resigned. They are both presently in the eastern gardens outside of the castle, at a veranda designated for their use. Between them are various pastries laid out atop a table and a pot of tea that has gone cold from too much time spent arguing. Hux, though, seems to not mind the temperature of the tea and still slurps from his cup, not pausing to glance at her as she openly glares at him. He has expressed his wish for her not to keep up the farce of her interest, so Rey chooses now to show just how much she’s irritated with him.

“Now,” Hux says, replacing his cup on its doily, raising a brow as he sees her ire, “let us both do away with the charade. Neither of us are interested in seeing a match in one another. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Rey scoffs as she crosses her arms over her chest.

“I am here to gain answers to my questions, as it appears you have done a good job of keeping my fellow nobles away from the truth of Ren’s proposal.”

“I don’t owe _anyone_ any answers.”

Ignoring her, Hux presses on, “Why did you refuse him?”

“Why do you have to know?”

Again, he ignores her and asks, “Do you know just how absolutely ridiculous it is to bear with Ren when his ego has been bruised?”

“I wouldn’t know, my lord.”

“Yes, exactly – you _don’t_ know. But I am gracious enough to enlighten you. Have you heard anything at all of Ren?”

She thinks of what she does know. He is a noble from Esstran, the last member of the house of Snoke. His father had been the Supreme Leader of the First Order during the war and that Ren had come up with the initiative to form the Knights. He had been the one to lead the siege in the bastion where Finn fell. Sometime after the war, he had then killed his father to assume headship of his house.

And that he thinks her a suitable match for him.

“I do not know much, my lord,” she confesses, honest.

“You would if you had gone to your arranged conference with him.”

“I had not been feeling well at the time,” Rey says, a pretty smile on her features. “I’m sure if you know of the missed meeting, then you would also know that I had sent a messenger to tell Lord Ren my apologies.”

“And anybody with half a mind would also know that you lied,” Hux answers back with a hiss. The man does little to hide his distaste and it fuels the already present antagonism in the air between them. “Regardless, Ren had been furious to know you stood him up. Infuriated. If we were in Esstran, he would have destroyed an entire corridor to bear the brunt of his anger – but of course for the sake of propriety, he did no such thing here in Ileenium.”

“So he is prone to tantrums?” Rey clarifies, not expecting a response. “Then I am more justified in my refusal of him; I wouldn’t want to be with someone who acts so beastly.”

“He will not stop until he has you, Captain.”

“No one gets to _have_ me but _me_ , my lord. I am and will always be no one’s property.”

“In Esstran, we are taught to fight for what we want, to take it through whatever means necessary.”

“And in Ileenium, we follow due process to get what we want. What is your point, sir?”

“If Ren had been willing to kill his father, what do you think he’s willing to do for the woman he covets?”

The question gives her pause as she remembers just how far she had been willing to go to exact revenge. Her own plots, the cruelty of her thoughts. If Hux is correct in his presumptions that Ren will continue to pursue her, then she should be _terrified_ of the lengths Ren would go to for _her_.

Hux leans forward, places his elbows on the table between them and rests his chin over his folded hands. In his eyes are a maniacal gleam akin to a predator setting sights on its prey.

“So you _do_ know.”

“Know what?”

“That Ren killed his father.”

It is only then that Rey realizes that she had bitten into Hux’s bait; that his question had been set up as a trap that she unwittingly fell into. It incenses her, how he has more control in the conversation than she does – that perhaps she had never had control at all.

“I had only heard of it from Lord Mitaka after Lord Ren’s proposal,” she says cautiously, not knowing where she is being led to with her own answer. “My refusal of Lord Ren had nothing to do with that.”

“But it has everything to do with your current avoidance of him.” The way he says it is as though it is fact. Rey will not fan the flames with any more words; she knows better than to fuel whatever Hux assumes of her standing with Kylo Ren. She keeps her silence and watches as he straightens his posture, takes another sip from his cold tea. The gaze he returns is unnerving as he continues, “Lord Mitaka and the other lower nobles know nothing of what happened, just misinterpreted half-truths passed on by word of mouth. _I_ , on the other hand, do know of the actual circumstances surrounding the former Supreme Leader Snoke’s death.”

Rey eyes him with wariness. She thinks she should rise. She thinks she should get up and go, politely thank him for his time and announce their incompatibility as reason for her early leave. She shouldn’t stay any longer. She had been doing just fine in not thinking of Kylo Ren. He is a _monster_ – there should be nothing more she wants to know of him.

 _But,_ she cannot deny the intrigue of Hux’s proposal of knowledge; the small part of her that _wants_ to know whatever he’s offering. It is no wonder that Jessika goes to him for information on Esstran happenings – he seems to know all of its secrets.

“Captain,” he begins, stretching out the final letter as he presses his tongue on the roof of his mouth. There is nothing handsome in the way he looks at her, in the way he invites her to engage in this conversation, but she is caught up in wanting to know all the same. “Let me tell you more about Lord Ren.”

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This is how she learns of the massacre:

She is in one of the huts designed to be a makeshift workshop for blacksmiths. Picking up some knowledge on metals from her scavenging days has made her somewhat an asset with the sword makers as she is able to identify which metals are workable, and her presence makes their jobs easier and the process much faster. She’s a good fighter and an even better rider, but on the days that are more calm than chaotic, she gets assigned on sorting duties rather over patrol. It’s terribly banal, but she isn’t one to question Captain Dameron’s orders – especially not after the leniency he’s showed with regards to her and Finn’s relationship.

She smiles as she scrubs scales off one chunk of metal. She’s _married_ now. Well, not officially in the eyes of the land, but in their hearts they are and it is all that should matter. Finn has given her something to look forward to at the end of the war, has given her the promise of a family she never had; and she’s grateful. It has only been half a day since he took off to go back to his respective bastion, but Rey cannot help but _dream_. To look to the future is something Rey hasn’t done in years and she can almost see it now: the end of the war, the house they’ll build, all the children they’ll take in and raise. It is all so beautiful to her, and Rey gets too caught up in her own reverie, in the world she’s imagining in her head, that she initially doesn’t hear the turmoil stirring outside. It takes three soldiers barging in, asking for whatever weapons that are ready to bring out and fight with for Rey to snap out of her daydream.

 _It’s the Knights of Ren,_ one of the men announces, his face painted with a flurry of panic and terror, _they’ve attacked the second bastion!_

The second – the one which Finn is assigned to, the one he had rushed to return to after she had sent him on his way just this morning. Rey feels her heart stop, a stone in her stomach drop. She forgets the order and runs away from the hut, leaving the soldiers to ask someone else for the weapons. Outside of the small hut, their own bastion is a bedlam – everywhere, people scurrying around, carrying armor and weapons, entering and leaving tents, filling up sacks for quick supplies. It’s a _mess_ , but it isn’t the type of disarray one expects from being the site of attack itself. Rey dashes to Poe’s tent and arrives just as he is about to leave, full armor already placed on his body; his war horse held by an attendant outside.

 _Let me come with you_ , she says it all in one breath as her heart continues to hammer in her chest. There are squadrons already in formation, already on their horses, awaiting their captain to lead them to the fray. Rey’s own team is not called upon for duty yet, but she has to do _something_.

 _No_. Poe’s voice is resolute; not gentle, not joking, not comforting at all. There is no sign of Poe as her friend but the man in front of her is instead Poe the Captain of the Rebels. _If those Knights move on to this bastion and we are defeated here as well, they get to move in to the inner lands. We cannot let that happen, Rey._

The captain rides off and the others follow in his trail, leaving Rey in the wake of dust from the horses running off. She feels helpless just standing there. She thinks she should get on her own horse and follow them, but doing so would we disobeying direct orders from her commander. And Poe does have a point about keeping the line of defense in their own bastion – it would be disastrous if the enemy is able to push past them.

She feels hopeless, as though she is back in Jakku and she is standing atop the fields with sinking sand. She feels that any moment the earth will give in beneath her and swallow her whole, and she is powerless against the force of nature – against _this_. Still, she staggers back to her own tent as she hears the lieutenant left in command shout orders over the din of the soldiers’ panic. The motions to put on her own armor are precise, practiced to have no room for error, no time to spare to correct mismatched latches. When she is done, Rey runs back out to meet the rest of her team and while they all try to maintain the silence to await for what their next move should be, there are still hushed whispers that pass on through the ranks.

 _The messenger_ , Rey overhears a conversation a few meters away, _says that the Knights attacked his village, burned and killed everyone there except him because he got away on his horse._ _It was the village nearest the second bastion and the troops came running once they saw the smoke. The attack spread their forces thin as they tried to keep defenses up in both places._

It is terrible to imagine and it continues to gnaw at her, the thought of Finn – her friend, her _husband_ – fighting for his life, for theirs, for the kingdom. The possibility of him being struck down is much too big for her to ignore and it makes her sick, but she is not one to abandon her post over her queasiness. She has a duty to push through, to wait and defend this bastion should Poe and the others fail.

 _The boy is with one of the doctors now,_ another soldier says, _he had just been a farmhand, or so I heard. He’s not even talking straight when asked about the attack. Poor kid must have watched his family slaughtered before he ran off._

The words she hears doesn’t help, and her thoughts keep racing; the worry running through her veins and staying in her heart, filling it until it’s ready to burst through her chest. She wants to cry. She wants to fight. She wants to run on her own and save Finn, but orders and orders and in the war she is foremost a soldier before she is anything else; especially before she is a _wife_ of a man for mere hours.

So she waits.

 

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She waits and she waits and she waits.

This game is nothing new to her. She has had years of practice in the desert, waiting for the family that would maybe take her back one day.

She waits, and she should already know by now that waiting is hopeless, but she is persistent and optimistic, and she wants to  _believe_.

She waits.

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It is dawn when Poe and his men return. They have wagons full of injured men and women, mostly soldiers but a few civilians are there as well. The sight of them is command enough to aid in any way. Men rush in to carry the wounded; women sprint to tents with supplies – meanwhile Rey is standing at the side, eyes as wide as they can be in the dim light of the not fully risen sun as she scans the sea of faces for the most familiar one, for the dearest in her heart.

When she sights Poe, he meets her gaze from across the field. In that moment the world has seized her by the feet, keeping her in place. Her heart leaps to her throat and baits her breath in anticipation. She knows there are hundreds of people around them all scurrying to reach the tents where the wounded can be tended to; that the world continues to move in motions dictated by equal measures of alarm and calmed necessity – but _now_ , now there is only her and Poe, and the subtle shake of his head that tells her all she needs to know.

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This is not what she had asked for.

He is a _monster_ , not a man – and thinking otherwise had been the mistake she made that allowed her to be vulnerable, that caused her to forget for the briefest of moments that she has every right to hate him for what he has taken from her.

 _But_ , familiarity breeds compassion. She _doesn’t_ know him, but she knows enough _of_ him to consider the humanity that exists beneath all her preconceived notions of his monstrousness. From Hux’s story, Rey learns that she and Ren are alike in more ways than she could ever imagine – than she’d ever _want_ to.

Like her, Ren is tortured by the potential future stolen right from beneath his feet. He shares the great _what if_ that hangs over her head constantly; that remains in the back of her head and surfaces at the end of each day.

Lord Ren had killed his adoptive father at the end of the war – that much, everyone knows. But the reason has been elusive to all but few, and these are the facts:

He had come home to their estate, retreating to the mountains after the declaration of the armistice. It is here that he stumbles upon a ledger in his father’s library that notes the reality of Ren’s identity – or at least, a part of it. For more than a decade, Lord Ren had been led to believe that he had been a bastard son made a legal heir to the noble house. His lack of memories from childhood had been explained by a riding accident where he had fallen on his head; and any lost child would have believed that, desperate for a semblance of identity, of who he should be in a land he doesn’t remember of ever being in. He grows up this way, then: as Kylo Ren, the son and rightful heir of the house of Snoke. In actuality, as written in the journal, Ren had only been taken in by Snoke after being found half-dead in their region of Esstran. Whether that had been an accident or by design, no one but Snoke could affirm; but that is not the truth Kylo Ren had sought to learn. He had wanted to know who he really was, if he had a family that he belonged to before Snoke had taken him, had stolen him away. The old man would not give him the answers he seeks, and a challenge to a duel commences – except, Snoke does not fight his adopted son at all. He readily accepts his fate in the hands of the man he has raised, a mad glint in his eyes as Ren thrusts a sword through his chest; _thrilled_ to see Ren in such a vengeful state.

Snoke places his hands on Ren’s shoulders, pushing his heir to face him. _My son._

Ren, only more enraged by this act and his words, pushes the blade deeper into the old man’s torso. _I am not your son._

 _But you are_ , Snoke says at last, blood gurgling in his mouth. A choked name leaves his body in place of a final breath: _Ben_.

Or perhaps, he had meant to say _Ren_ , but he could not say the word properly when his mouth had been filled with his blood. No one could affirm his intent; he had died keeping the secret of Ren’s identity to his grave. Angered, Ren had went on a rampage, destroying corridors and rooms in their estate, slashing at the expensive furniture, priceless paintings and breaking precious ceramics until his strained muscles could no longer allow for any more movement; letting the exhausted man finally collapse.

Kylo Ren, just like Rey, is haunted by the question of who he would have been if he had not been abandoned by his real family.

She had spent years of her life wondering what it meant to be just _Rey_. No other name to carry. No family to come home to, no legacy to bear – nothing. She can just imagine how terrible Kylo Ren must have felt – must _feel_ – knowing that both his past and his future had been stolen from him. She had dreamed once of a future with Finn. He had promised her a home, a loving family; and she could never fully forgive Kylo Ren for taking that away from not just her, but from Finn as well. But Rey knows that the future has never been set in stone and that deep down she had already known that those plans might not have pulled through, especially with the war; though she had _hoped_. Despite this new life she’s made for herself, she is still Rey from Jakku, a woman capable of adapting with the shifting landscape of not just the lands, but her life.

She might not know who she is going to be years from now, but she knows who she _was_ , knows that her past struggles have shaped her into the person she is now. She doesn’t know who she could have been because she had no ties at all to her life before Jakku. All she has ever known is that she has to become someone for her own sake.

But Kylo Ren – he will be forever haunted by not knowing who he is beneath the man crafted to be the heir of the First Order. He does not know who he was. He does not know who he _could_ have been had Snoke not lied to him, had he not been stolen from his childhood. Had he been someone? Or is he like her, a _no one_? Who is he if not Kylo Ren? He has nothing else to cling on to but the name _Ben_ , just as she only has her name as well.

It must be _painful_ , and Rey struggles with the emotion that washes over her as she thinks of the thoughts that must torture him. But more than that, she struggles with the feeling of _feeling_ for him at all.

Compassion for an enemy – _never_.

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For the longest time, she has associated his name with feelings of hatred, of desperation to win the war and to confront him; to make him face justice for Finn's death.

But  _now_ , now...

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This is how she comes to learn of his name:

They are all still tending to the wounded, but her suffering is different and cannot be treated with bandages or herbs brewed together in an apothecary. Instead she is allowed to grieve by herself in an empty tent. She is twenty-two years old and fraught, and as she weeps, as she mourns for the friend, the husband she has lost too soon, the queen herself steps in the temporary garrisons and starts to tell the younger woman a story with the intention to placate. It is the story of the original Rebels, a minder of what they are fighting to maintain in this war.

When the queen takes her leave, Rey is finally able to stand. She rises and moves to exit, to begin helping others outside, a task she has put off to give some time to herself, when a young boy steps into the tent, looking lost. Rey doesn’t know who he is, but she does. There are not many civilians rescued from the village and there is only one boy she’s heard of ever since the attack.

 _Those monsters killed your parents_ , she finds herself saying, and as the words leave her mouth she can see the look of horror befall the child’s face, marking his features with dread as he remembers the truth of what had just happened to him. _They are from the Knights of Ren, and they also took someone precious from me yesterday in the siege._

This somehow eases the boy, knowing there is someone who shares in his suffering.

_Tell me what you know of who did this, of those who took away the ones we loved from us, and I’ll kill them._

He hasn’t spoken at all – or so Rey has heard. His trauma has not allowed him to speak of what has happened, of what exactly it is he had seen, other than announcing the attack of the enemy in the village. She doesn’t expect him to answer, but still, she is reaching, for something to connect, to let her know more of what happened in the battle where Finn had been; a thread to go on with.

It surprises her when she hears a croak. A name.

_Kylo Ren._

She plants the seed of his name in her heart, lets her hatred for him grow until it is able to bear fruit; until it is enough to feed on so she becomes a weapon herself, the perfect soldier to win the war. She will find him. She will get her revenge.

She will be his death.

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Now, she cannot find it in her heart to bear any more hatred.

Whether it is compassion she feels for him now, it doesn't matter. This feeling is going to ruin her, she already knows as much.

 

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“You are the oldest among the knights, Lord Hux?”

They are presently in a corridor in the wing that houses the queen’s noble guests. Rey’s palm is placed atop Hux’s forearm, though technically, Rey is the one escorting him back to his quarters. They may not find each other too agreeable or suitable for one another, but still they keep up with appearances – and Hux is still a gentleman with manners, despite his surly attitude.

“I am,” he answers diligently. She already knows it as fact, though she still asks to not act presumptive. “And what of it?”

“Well, my lord, it makes me curious,” she continues, “how come you aren’t married yet?”

“My father died a few years before the war and I had been too busy arranging the affairs of my family’s estate to search for a bride because my uncle was an incompetent man.” His nose draws up, distasteful of the memory. “And there is not much time to think of such follies during times of war, don’t you agree? But _you_ , on the other hand, you are beautiful and young, and most likely exceptionally skilled given your rank as a captain. If anything, that question should be directed at you, my captain. How come _you_ aren’t married yet?”

She thinks of Finn, of the unfulfilled dreams they shared, and sighs.

“As you said, there was not much time to think of such follies during the war.”

“But now, my captain, is there anyone among the knights that interest you?”

“I still have yet to meet three more of your colleagues, so I am still keeping my options open,” she responds, a safe answer. “Perhaps at the end of the scheduled meetings, I will have my prospects rounded down to a few.”

Hux shakes his head, as if to mock her with his derisive tone. “If we are being honest, my captain, I don’t believe you are going to have a choice.”

“My freedom to choose is one of the few things no one can take from me, my lord.” Rey sneers at his implication, of Ren still having his sights set on her. She may not find herself hating him as much as she had before she learned the truth, but he is not on her good side either. She also thinks of Unkar Plutt, of the small independences she used to make for herself back in Jakku. “Not now, not ever.”

Their steps come to a halt as they arrive in front of the door to Hux’s quarters. She feels smug in the way she has carried herself in their short conversation, in how she had been able to have the last say. She feels his begrudging respect in the way his eyes don’t outright glare at her, and it is a small victory that brings a smile up to her lips. She may not _like_ Hux, but she imagines he could make a good ally when necessitated. He is a smart man, cautious in his dealings, and Rey can see why Jessika admires him.

“Good night, my lord,” Rey says, bowing slightly. “Thank you for… enlightening me this afternoon.”

“And thank you for allowing me the opportunity to get to know more about you, Captain Rey.”

Those are his last words to her as he turns to enter his room, slamming the door to her face. _Rude_ , Rey wants to exclaim, but there are others who would hear and know it is her causing a stir. Instead, she huffs, and breathes in again to calm herself, to not let the ended meeting get on her nerves.

When it occurs to her – what does he mean? That he’s gotten to know more about _her_ when they had only really talked about _Kylo Ren_?

A door squeaks open; the one beside Lord Hux’s. And when she sees the man in her thoughts step out, Rey’s heart soars, blood rushing and causing a thunderous roar in her ears. She had not expected to see him so _soon_ – though it isn’t as soon as she thinks; she has been successful in avoiding seeing him in the past week ever since his proposal. But this _soon_ she means is the time ever since the revelation. Ever since she learned from Hux that she cannot do more harm to him when his soul is already tortured as is.

“Captain.” His voice is a low timbre echoing in the silence of the otherwise empty hallway. It is only them once more in the poorly lit setting, the orange glow of the candles bouncing off their forms and it is barely enough light for her to properly see in, but she can at least tell that his clothes are meant for riding out.

“Are you going out for a ride, my lord?” she asks, not to be presumptive, but polite.

“I am.” His response is short, gruff; abrasive. His pride has been wounded through her rejection and she can tell that his ego could not handle another beating in the hands of her words. Still, she is aware of the reality that she cannot do any more harm to his already tortured soul. Even if she wants to. Even if she’s desperate to. “What of it?”

He is good at masking such sadness, and it _hurts_ her to remember for his sake. It hurts _her_ to see that he’s hiding so much of his sadness, of his own desperation. She imagines it takes a lot of strength to keep up the appearance of his stability, to convince others of the illusion that he is not conflicted by his own existence. And she doesn’t like the blatant dishonesty more than she doesn’t like him.

So she smiles, and the smile she gives him is gentle, a little teasing, even.

“Would you mind if I joined you?”

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bridge chapter that shows a jump in their relationship. Slowly, Rey is starting to see more and more of Kylo Ren, though he's unaware of her discoveries. She hates him much less now because she sort of understands that he's troubled and haunted like her, but he's still a bit angry with her because she rejected him and stood him up. Oh, these two.
> 
> If you're reading this, I'd like to thank you so much for still sticking with the story! I can't believe people are actually reading this and when I see this story in rec lists on tumblr I immediately jump in my seat because I can't wrap my head around the possibility that people actually like this. Wow, you guys. Thanks for all the support!
> 
> Anywho, I want to be able to interact with you guys more! And for this chapter I'd like to ask you guys for two things:
> 
> 1) Send me a song! I made [a mix ](http://8tracks.com/kaathiiee/the-world-in-its-dark-grace) compiling the songs I listened to that inspired me to lay out the plot of the story. But moving along while writing, it's hard to keep up the inspiration. So if you have a nice song in mind that you think could help me get over blocks, that would be sweet!
> 
> 2) Send me your headcanons! I like seeing your ideas in your comments and I think this world is expansive enough to accommodate them. If you have ideas about the happenings in the story, please feel free to share them with me! I won't spoil you and tell you if you're wrong or right -- you'll have to wait for the future chapters to see for yourself if what you think aligns with the planned canon in this universe. (but who knows, i might just like your idea more and scrap my own plans! haha)
> 
> Or if you have questions or clarifications, you can ask them as well! Either here or on [my tumblr](http://kaathiiee.tumblr.com). I'll answer them to the best of my ability without giving too much of the story away. :)


	6. Two Moons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, this has to be my favorite chapter so far. I was going to post it yesterday, but my laptop died. (See [here](http://kaathiiee.tumblr.com/post/143261014779/me-an-engineering-undergraduate-baffled-by) for its funeral, lol.) Sorry to keep you guys waiting!
> 
> It's very atmospheric so I was listening to a lot of music while writing this story. Some of my song recommendations to go with this chapter: [Near Light by Olafur Arnalds](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0kYc55bXJFI), [It's Dark It's Cold It's Winter by sleepmakeswaves](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yxoijqbnqoA), and finally [Two Moons by toe](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lACSvDOLhLU).

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There is something in the silence of the city, in the stillness of their surroundings that makes Kylo Ren stand out when he shouldn’t – not when he is a man of darkness himself. Rey fully expects him to sink to the ground, to be lost in the gloom of the streets. The shadows become him, and it simultaneously fascinating and terrifying for Rey to make a study of his edged features being illuminated by the twin moons overhead. She can only see so much of him as she tries to be discrete, tries to peek through the hood of her riding coat, but there is _something_ …

 _This is Kylo Ren_ , she thinks to herself, _this is the man who killed Finn. This is the man who led the attack on that village to divert the attention of those defending the bastion. This is the man who did not hesitate to use the lives of civilians to get an advantage in the war._

She should hate him. She has every reason to – but if she chooses to follow her emotions solely based on his actions during the war, then she should also hate herself, shouldn’t she? The Rebels, the Knights – how different are they really?

There is something different in the way Kylo Ren handles himself tonight. He is presently leading the way, his horse striding just a few steps ahead of her own, and she can see him move his head around, tilting to get a view of their surroundings. He is taking in the details, probably noting the differences between this city and his home – _Kaas_ , if she recalls the name right from the stories told to her by Lord Hux. He looks a child bewildered, and she imagines herself in his place. This is the same expression she must have worn when she had been first brought to D’Qar. The amazement of having lighted paths, of seeing activity and life go on even after the sun has set; but there is still something else in the look in Ren’s eyes, a sort of longing that she cannot place.

At first, she theorizes that he is missing Kaas. It has been over two weeks since he left his kingdom with the other nobles to come to D’Qar and make peace, attempt to fulfill the provisions of the treaty. She couldn’t deny that she had felt something similar after arriving in D’Qar. The capital is a lovely place, more hospitable and habitable than Jakku ever could be, but there had been days when she had missed the sand between her toes and even the waves of heat on her skin, days when she expects to see a mass of dull yellow behind her when the sun is at its zenith. She tries to think of what Kaas must be like – _cold_ , for sure. The city home to Ren and a few of his fellow knights sits atop a mountain. The humid air of D’Qar must be making him think of the home he had left behind.

Then it hits her – _he doesn’t know where his home really is._ The look in his eyes is that of someone wondering, searching for a sign in the wooden constructs of shops and the cobbled paths, in the faces of the people they pass. He is looking for an anchor to this place, for something familiar to bring back a memory, for something to tell him that this city might have been his, once, a long time ago, before he had become the man beside her now.

 _This is Kylo Ren_ , she thinks to herself again, _but in him is also that lost boy – Ben._

Rey sees it now. Sees _him_. He is struggling with himself, as though he is uncomfortable in his own skin, in the way his bones align beneath. There is an air of anxiousness about him; no trace of the haughtiness and sophistication, the _you are all beneath me_ attitude. His posture is as stiff as ever, back straight, rod-like; but what gives him away is in the more minute details, in the things one does not easily latch on to at a glance. Ren’s hands clutches at the reins of his horse too tightly, his ever present gloves appearing ready to burst at its seams, though one finger is tapping at the leather more frequently than his shifting glances. His feet are just as restless, kicking at the stirrups unnecessarily. And his lips, how he purses them, how he bites at the lower lip and unconsciously shows the misalignment of the upper row of his teeth. The movements of his body speaks volumes of his own troubles – which Rey isn’t supposed to know about, but she can’t help be sympathetic either way.

His body language speaks volumes, and it is more than what has been said between them since they left the castle together. Aside from the gruff _fine_ Ren had said in response to her query of joining him for his late stroll, no other words have been exchanged. There has only been this silence, this wall between them that she herself has put up and he reinforces on his side.

She doesn’t even know what it is she wants to say to him. On one hand, she wants to accuse him, wants to lay out the truth between them: _you killed my dearest friend, my husband, Finn. I wanted to kill you. I’ve wanted to kill you for so long, you don’t know how much resentment and hurt I’ve carried ever since I learned of your name, you don’t know, you don’t—_

And then there is the truth she wants to bring out of him: _you’re lost in this world, you don’t know if home should be a city your heart isn’t in. I know how that feels, I understand how frustrating it is to think of another life you could have had. I know, I know—_

There are the words she wants to tell Kylo Ren, and there are the words she wants to tell Ben, whoever he is. Rey feels something inside her begin to tear open, to crack until a large enough fissure forms, as she tries to comprehend that they should be one and the same, that there is only this man before her now and not the contradiction in her head. She is split, undecided on how to proceed, what to say.

There is only this silence and the stillness of the world around them. In her thoughts and in her vision, there is only Kylo Ren, standing out when he shouldn’t be.

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In the heart of the kingdom of Ileenium is its capital, D’Qar. In the more developed area of the land, the one with settlements away from the larger forests between regions, is the castle of the ruling monarch. The impressive structure had been built upon an islet within a large lake, connected to the main land by a single bridge suspended over the waters, and its placement allows for it to always be illuminated by the twin moons, always shining, offering light to its people – _hope_ in a brighter tomorrow led by the hand of the crown.

Around the castle are the main streets of the city where shops and carts line the roads, long and winding. The paths are labyrinthine in configuration, a maze for the unfamiliar to the region – this allows for the slowing down of enemies as they would not be able to get to the fortress of the queen if they do not know the way. The locals, however, are knowledgeable enough of the area to traverse these roads without becoming lost.

Approximately five miles away is the estate housing the Rebels; the gates always open to those of their kingdom in need. At this time of the night, most of the esteemed soldiers are tucked away in their beds, dreaming. Those who are still up are either patrolling the streets and keeping guard at the various outposts set up around the city or lying in bed, unable to sleep as they are plagued with restlessness from a war that doesn’t end in their minds.

Further away from the center of the kingdom, in the outskirts of the region of D’Qar is the quiet, the calm away from the clamor of the city. Those from these villages are the farmers who harvest their yields in the wide fields and fishers who cast lines to capture the fishes found in the lesser lakes, bringing their offerings to the city by day to join in the commerce. The people here are all slumbering, giving in to sleep early into the night to wake up early the next day.

And a good distance away from one of these settlements is a clearing. When the moons set in the west and the sun begins to rise from beyond the horizon, a slab of marble erected on the ground meets the light from the breaking of dawn. There is a name etched on this stone and there is a name impressed on Rey’s heart and they are one and the same.

Back in the heart of the heart of the kingdom, there is a name – _Kylo Ren_ – and there is a name – _Ben_ – and they are one and the same.

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They carry on in hushed contemplation. Rey usually doesn’t mind the meditative quiet – having grown up in Jakku where the silence had been everywhere, she is more than used to having no one else but her thoughts keep her company – but this, _this_ is _dangerous_. She cannot stop thinking about Kylo Ren, especially with his proximity. After days of casting him aside in her head, of avoiding him at all costs within the castle grounds, one conversation has managed to undo all her efforts in moving on from the dark-haired noble.

She is anxious for the silence to be over with, but at the same time she fears to begin a conversation with him because she wouldn’t know what to say. Lord Hux’s words are still haunting her: _he will not stop until he has you_.

Being _wanted_ is not an entirely new concept to her. Unkar Plutt had been keen on keeping her with him, insisting that she stay in a closet turned quarters at his outbuilding back in Jakku; the threat of hunger all too real if she leaves his care or doesn’t comply with his orders. There had always been something underlying in the way Plutt handled himself when he was in her presence; something that made her conscious of the horrors he _could_ do to her. Her old custodian had _wanted_ her in a way she could not explain, in a way she didn’t want to ever think about.            

But being wanted by Kylo Ren is different – it _terrifies_ her.

It terrifies her how she isn’t completely adverse to the idea of it.

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“Captain.”

Rey turns to face him again after several minutes of distracting herself with everything around her that isn’t him – and it jolts her. He is looking at her the way Finn used to on many different occasions, on previous rides of their own. Overall it is constrained, but not completely impassive. There is still a longing underneath that he cannot hide – not when his eyes betray him with their expressiveness. Her employed strategy of forcibly distancing herself from him has not worked; and it has only served to make him want her all the more.

_He will not stop until he has you._

She feels something claw through her chest and seize her heart. _I’m only missing Finn_ , she tells herself; though she knows in truth that this pang is something else entirely – it’s her newly awakened curiosity for him. The want for answers, for a form of reciprocation she never thought to find in him.

_Tell me you understand this loneliness._

“Captain,” he repeats, more urgently this time. “We’re approaching a checkpoint.”

“Oh?” Rey parts from their joined gaze and focuses on the road. Just as Ren’s claimed, she can see them nearing one of the small outposts of the Rebels stationed around the city: a booth that could fit only two persons at a time with a standing ladder leading to an open upper deck which has a bell attached to the roof of the shanty. The bell is only rung in the case of emergencies, and there is a specific code for each number of strikes. There are several of these seemingly unstable structures stationed around the city; should one have a reason to sound its bell, the rest are alerted and begin to echo the alert – a nucleation of warnings of dangers or threats to the city.

There is always a Rebel stationed for the watch, even during the war. Though, she has a feeling that whoever’s on guard at the one they’re approaching is asleep. She remembers her own shifts back when she had only been in training, before she was assigned to a battalion sent to the frontlines of the war. It becomes terribly lonely and dull the longer into the night one gets – what with the chaos being so far away from the center of the kingdom.

“Perhaps your presence here tonight has purpose after all, Captain,” Ren remarks.

“That is?” Rey asks in turn, ignoring how he had just implied that he had thought of her tagging along as a nuisance.

“Should I be stopped at the checkpoint, the papers I carry will show that I am from Esstran.”

“And so?”

“I fear another attack – like that at the reception ball.”

The mention of their very first meeting, the most prominent memory shared between them, reminds Rey of how much has changed in such a short time – in mere _hours_.

“Might I tell you what I think, my lord?”

“Go ahead.”

_You’re lost in this world, you don’t know if home should be a city your heart isn’t in. You must have been so lonely. I know how that feels. Tell me you understand this loneliness._

“I think you are being paranoid,” she says instead, pushing away the truth of her thoughts. “And you imply the Rebels would dare act against the peace. We, who strive so hard to maintain order within the kingdom?”

 _Hypocrite_ , she berates herself. _Hypocrite, hypocrite, hypocrite._

“I did not mean to insult you, captain.” It is meant as an apology, though it doesn’t exactly feel like one to Rey. “It is just—” He stops to sigh. “I do not feel at ease in Ileenium.”

She hangs on to his words after that, knowing that this is the opening she has to _know_ – and she doesn’t know why it is she wants to learn about him more when she had wanted to be rid of him, but there is something inside her that is persistent, that keeps her wanting.

With no further prompting from her, he continues, “It is unsettling. I think it must be because I haven’t been outside of Esstran before the war. I had only known my home at Kaas and the other mountain cities in Esstran. My father—” Kylo Ren pauses yet again, looking more like the intimidating man that had formally proposed to her, that had attempted to push her into an engagement by convincing her it had been her duty, and less the lost boy exploring the city for the very first time with eyes trying to remember. His eyes darken as he thinks of how to proceed, of what to mention regarding his adoptive father – the one she knows he had slayed in a duel of sorts. She gives him the time he needs, though, until he looks like he’s decided on something to say. “He insisted I stay within the borders and learn what I could under his tutelage. One of the things he taught me was that your people still believe in the tales of old, in the living Force.”

“The Force,” Rey repeats, just to be sure she’s heard him right. She recalls the time Jess told her of Hux’s claim of her being a Force user and how she had cackled at the preposterousness of the suggestion. Now, it still sounds just as ridiculous to her. “My lord, I assure you that the Force is also considered tales of old in our kingdom as it is in yours.”

“Well,” he goes on, “it doesn’t change the fact that there is something of your city I cannot place. Something amiss. Something tugging and pulling me and telling me to pay attention.”

 _This must be it, then,_ Rey surmises. He must have belonged here, once, in D’Qar. That something he mentions must be his memories of the time before he became Kylo Ren. She wishes to prod further, to be able to push him to admitting the truth of his circumstances to her. She already knows from Hux, but she wants to hear it from him as well. To confirm his miseries; to let her heart settle in knowing he is not the monster she thought him to be.

“I understand.” It could mean so many things now: _I understand why you did what you did in the war – because wars are tragic and brutal and death is an all too real consequence in the fighting. I understand why you are the way you are. I understand what has been taken from you. I understand your loneliness._ It could mean so many things now, but those are still words she has yet to be able to say to him. “When I first came to D’Qar, I had felt the urge to take the city in. Everything was unfamiliar and new to me because it was my first time in a region outside of Jakku. That must be what you’re feeling right now, too.”

“Jakku?”

“The desert land at the southern reaches of the kingdom, north of the land of Mandelore.”

“I know where Jakku is supposed to be. You were from Jakku?”

“Does that surprise you?”

“No, no; it’s not that. It’s just that _–_ you were right.”

She doesn’t know what he’s pertaining to exactly, but she feels something swell inside her all the same. It is the inherent pride which washes over someone when being affirmed, when they are told they are correct.

“About what, my lord?”

“I know nothing of you at all.”

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Rey doesn’t even notice that they have passed the checkpoint until they start to turn into a different street. The two of them have finally begun conversing _–_ in a manner more civil than she had ever thought possible with him, given how much she previously dreaded the thought of facing him again. She politely excuses herself, asks for five minutes for her to double back and go to the checkpoint _–_ to which he says yes to her request. Not like he has a choice, really; if he had said no, she would still have gone ahead with her plan to turn back around.

The fact that Rey still has her hood on had been sign enough of the failure of whoever is on guard. It is protocol to ask riders to dismount, pull their hood back and stand by if their horse had a compartment which would be inspected. Rey knows it’s easy to fall asleep on the job, but she had always fought off the compulsion to lay down because her duty to her kingdom required her awake. To know that one of the Rebels has been slacking gives her cause to feel disappointment.

When she arrives at the storied shanty, she sights a man in uniform sitting, his head leaning on one of the wooden posts. His eyes are closed and his mouth hangs open slightly. _At least_ , Rey thinks, _he isn’t snoring._ If so, she would have smacked him in the head there and then. A lamp hangs on one of the panels and it casts light on the slumbering figure of the Rebel, on his face.

“Bastian!” she reprimands the recruit she had met a few days ago, who had challenged her to a mock duel back in the training grounds of the Rebel estate and lost. The man comes to and stumbles out of his seat, rising to attention at the call of his name.

“Captain!” he greets, still in a daze. “Where did you _–_?”

“You are to report your incompetency to Captain Dameron tomorrow morning. He will see to what punishment you may serve to make up for your failure tonight. Is that clear?”

Irritation flashes on his face first. He is just as old as the female captain and yet ranks so far below her. Still, he knows better than to act disrespectfully to someone whose authority is held in high regard.

“Yes, Captain,” he mutters with a nod. “I apologize.”

“We are Rebels, Bastian,” Rey finally says, tone lighter and gentler, “and for us, duty must come first _– always_.”

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_And this? This marriage – is it not your duty as well?_

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When the world turns dark from the daily departure of the sun, there is still light that remains: two moons illuminating the land. Each culture has a different story to tell of the masses orbiting above them. In Jakku, they did not like the night so much. No work could be done after the sun has gone; and to travel outside the safety of the village in the darkness was to ask for a way to die _–_ either through the swallowing sands or the creatures that roam after dusk. But in D’Qar, Rey learns that there is a tale to go with the beautiful sight of the moons.

In the heart of the heart of the kingdom, the moons are named after ancient dieties; when the world still believed in silly things such as the _Force_. They are Yanna and Ulga. The former had lost her beloved daughter in a war and created this world in her grief. The strands of hair she yanked out of her own head grew into forests on what had been barren land; the tears that fell from her eyes became the lakes, the rivers, every body of water. There are weeks when the rain pours nonstop, and the story goes that this is caused by Yanna, the goddess still weeping even after a millennia has passed.

Ulga is the other moon in the sky, the larger gray sphere. She had been a soldier, a commander, a murderer. She killed Yanna’s daughter in the battlefield, slit the younger girl’s throat. The blood that spilled onto the ground embrittled the land and formed the deserts, the expanse of death. Ulga may be bigger, but she orbits the world with Yanna all the same. She is condemned to this fate: to face the grieving mother, to face the shame of her actions in war. She will be there until the end of the world with Yanna _–_ who is always, always mourning.

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“Ulga shouldn’t have to answer for her actions,” debates Kylo Ren. “There is a reason for wars. The deaths that come from the fighting are not baseless. Ulga has no cause for shame for what she had done. If anything, Yanna should be ashamed of herself for demeaning her daughter’s sacrifice.”

“You’re missing the point of the story,” Rey argues back. There is a part of her that is hurting from his words, as though he is speaking of himself instead _–_ that he is telling her that _she_ is the one who should be indignified for carrying such anger over Finn’s death. “Ulga doesn’t have a choice. She cannot go on pretending that the war never happened, that she hadn’t killed anyone. Yanna represents just one of many of those who have lost so much in whatever war they had fought. Ulga faces Yanna because she shows the aftermath, the consequences.”

“And this does not take into account what Ulga is already suffering. Who is to say she doesn’t already carry guilt within her? Ghosts just add to ones that are already there. Is this not the true tragedy here: that Yanna judges Ulga solely for what the latter has done?”

Rey becomes quiet and breathes in the cold air of the night instead.

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_There is a reason for wars._

This is theirs:

North of D’Qar is the region of Takodana. Rey could think that if lands could be described in extremes, Takodana would be the opposite of Jakku. Where her old home is barren and desolate, the other region is rich with life and vegetation. Rey never thought there could be that much _green_ in the world _–_ but that had only been the part of Takodana unreached by the strife. Further up north, the region borders Esstran. The neighboring area is a valley at the foot of one of the mountains of Esstran, and there had been no reason to dispute how the lands below were split _–_ that was, before the war.

Takodana has many rivers running through its fields. The flow of water is one of the reasons why the region remains so fertile and bountiful. In one of the villages is a wide river where its people bathe and trawl for food. This is the village closest to the border of Esstran; and the nearest settlement of those from the other kingdom is just a few miles away. When the foreigners arrived and asked to share the wealths of the river as their land had dried and they were hungry from running out of a source of sustenance, those from Ileenium had been hospitable and kind. They agreed to share the gifts of the river, and so their neighbors left that night with baskets of fish to take home to their families.

The locals had thought that it was only for a week or so, until those from Esstran were able to ask aid from the nobles that ruled their land, but then they had kept returning, kept stealing the fruits of the locals’ hard labor. They moved closer and closer to the river until they started to claim the land as their own. The original settlers could not stand for it any longer; not wishing to be subjugated, they fought back.

People fought, people died, people retaliated _–_ and so the cycle of vengeance began. When the word reached the rulers of each kingdom, they had tried to solve the issue individually. Esstran had unearthed evidence that the land had indeed been theirs; citing maps from before Palpatine’s reign as emperor _–_ but the elderly locals claimed they had always been citizens of Ileenium. The crown of Ileenium sent its king-consort, former captain of the Rebels, Han Solo. When he arrived in Takodana, so had the representatives sent by the nobles of Esstran, the First Order: the Knights of Ren.

The peace negotiations hadn’t lasted as the disputed land quickly turned to bedlam. When one of the locals dared to attack one of the knights, the slaughter began anew. In the skirmishes that followed, Han Solo could not escape the region fast enough and had been struck down.

Ileenium would not stand by and allow such a trespass to go unforgiven. They declared war on Esstran, and for years the hostilities between the two kingdoms went on. And on and on until the disputed lands had become so torn with war, so stained with blood; until it had become so dirtied and their losses so high that Esstran no longer wanted to bother claiming the land for themselves.

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_The deaths that come from the fighting are not baseless._

Far from the city, there is a village; and near that village is an empty field where a monument made of marble has been set in the ground. It is separate from the shrine set up at the Rebel estate for their fallen comrades because this _–_ this mourning is _hers_. This is a reminder of the Finn she had known; not a soldier, but a friend.

There is no body they could salvage from the ruins of the village near the second bastion. All that had been left were charred remains, mixed soot, ashes of both burnt houses and flesh. Rey imagines only the most heroic and noble way for Finn to have gone: he must have tried to rescue as many civilians from the village as he could, until the pillars of a burning house crumbled over him, crushing him beneath the flames and wood. This is how he died in Rey’s mind. Always a hero.

The first time she brings the stone to rest in the vacant field, she stays there for two nights. Sleeping beneath the stars, looking up at the smaller of the two moons in the sky, thinking _always, always mourning._

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Once more they ride on in silence, with only the pattering of the steps of their horses resounding in the empty streets. They have been riding for almost an hour now, or so Rey can deduce with their speed, because they are close enough to see the gated entrance to the Rebel estate.

Rey can see Ren staring at the lighted entryway, looking bewildered at the two columns towering at the sides. There are Rebels stationed at the top of the two towers, watching over the rest of the city; ready to wake the rest of their fellow soldiers should their presence be needed when the bells are rang.

“Would you like to go in, my lord?” Rey offers. “If you are tired, you can rest in one of the modest rooms open for travellers _–_ ”

“No,” Ren is quick to answer. “Let’s head back.”

He has already turned around and tempered his horse to a sprint when she looks back at him. She doesn’t know why it is he’s so eager to leave after she suggests he stay. Regardless, with her eminent riding skills, it doesn’t take long for her to catch up to him. Soon enough she is matching his horse stride for stride and she calls out for him.

“Ren!”

He slows down to a stop, and so does she. The clouds have cleared from the sky and they are both cast in the light of the two moons _–_ Yanna and Ulga, the mother and the killer. Both Rey and Ren sit atop their own horses, unmoving, only facing one another _–_ the grieving widow and her husband’s murderer.

“ _Rey_ ,” he utters her name in a soft whisper, trembling. There is something in the silence of the city that makes him stand out when he shouldn’t, and she drinks in the details that comprise him _–_ dark hair, alabaster skin, the brown of his eyes, even the small but prominent blemishes of his face. He looks disoriented, more than anything, at a loss. And then: a gentleness she could not fully form into words. There is something in the way he is looking at her now, like she is a lifeline, like she could be the only thing real in the world around him, like she is the moon in a land otherwise cast in the dark of the night.

His focus on her is tantalizing. She reaches out to hold it between her palms, to pull it close to her chest. It is strange, for how could she want to keep the memory of a mere gaze? How does this make sense? How could she want anything more from the man she should hate?

“ _Ben–_ ”

And already she knows she has ruined it.

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] The story of Yanna and Ulga is borrowed from another story, _[tell me about the big bang](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5926144)_.
> 
> .
> 
> Last update someone asked me what century the fashion in this world is based on. I answered that question [here](http://kaathiiee.tumblr.com/post/142275211909/what-century-is-the-reylo-fic-based-on-so-i-can). If you have other questions about the story, you can ask them in the comments below or [over at my tumblr](http://kaathiiee.tumblr.com/ask). :)


	7. Complication

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was my last update really two weeks ago? I'm so sorry! It's May so it's the last month of the semester and finals week will be upon us all in no time. I'll try to put up another chapter but hopefully you guys are understanding enough of me putting my academics first. After my exams, it will be summer and I will have more time to write and update faster. Yay!
> 
> This is the longest chapter yet, so hopefully that makes up for the delay in posting. You guys might want to brace yourself. Let me know what you think of it after! :p
> 
> Also, please listen to [I Can Make You Feel Young Again by Copeland](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Xt6i_9PLyE) if you can spare the time! I love the song so much (the more quiet version is up on [spotify](http://open.spotify.com/track/35rR3MXLu4VN5IAUfvcBA5) if you prefer it to sound more atmospheric; I personally like this album version over the one in the video link) and I think its lyrics and sound are apt for the direction of this chapter. I squeal over this song when I think about this story!! If you have songs you think would inspire me to write, please send them over!

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First, there is warmth. She feels it settle on her face before she even fully wakes. When she opens her eyes, the brilliance of the sun draws her focus to the sky – a bright blue. _It has to be midday by now_ , she thinks, still lying on the ground.

Second comes the sound of a whinny. She turns her head and sees her horse tied down to a tree a good distance away. It is agitated, restless; it keeps pacing, trotting the area near the shrubbery that it could cover with the rope still locked in place around the bark.

Finally, there is soreness, something knotted deep in the fibers of her muscles. She really should stand now, should rise and stretch her limbs to get some blood rushing back through her veins, maybe also walk over to her horse and calm it down – but she finds simply moving difficult. She hasn’t felt this heavy, this tired, ever since the end of the war; when she had finally let herself give in to the weight of it all and collapsed in her quarters at the Rebel Estate. But she isn’t anywhere near her room now. She’s far, far away from the center of the city, from the heart of the heart of the kingdom. Instead, she’s back in the field, fighting another battle within her.

Her bones feel leaden, as though she has lost the strength to carry herself. It is depressing to imagine for Rey, the warrior losing her will to stand and move on with life; surviving so much only to give up now. But it is so, so _easy_ to just stop, to forget all her responsibilities, to lay here forever. She turns her head once more and back in her sight is the marble slab set on the ground bearing Finn’s name and thinks, _it’s so easy._

Rey doesn’t know where to start. She knows she had come here for a reason – and that being the hope of comfort. Once upon a time, Finn had been her closest friend, her confidant. Not even death, a permanent parting, would change that. She had come here to put herself at ease.

“ _Finn_ ,” she breathes out, unmoving, staring blankly at the name carved onto the surface of the stone. Her heart clenches; it has been more than a year and yet the ache still feels raw, too new. “Oh, Finn, why did you have to leave me?”

It isn’t as though Finn had a say in the matter anyway. Rey is sure that if any of them had control over the events of the past, the outcome wouldn’t be _this_. If she has the choice to change how everything is now, she would be with Finn – happy and _alive_. They would have left the Rebels together to start the home he promised her. Perhaps here in D’Qar or maybe even in the areas in Takodana being rebuilt. The thought of Jakku passes and she realizes with bitterness that she wouldn’t mind going back to the desert if it means having Finn back in her life. It doesn’t even have to be in hers; so long as he gets to live his own life, it doesn’t matter to Rey what sacrifice she has to make. He deserves so much more than what had been given to him, and Rey loves him enough to have at least _tried_ to give him as much.

But she doesn’t have that luxury. She cannot unwind the hands of the clock, cannot go back to a time before she lost the person she cared for the most. She cannot change anything – not Finn’s feelings, not her choice to say _yes_ to his proposal, not the war that took him from the world. There is nothing but the reality of the present: the two kingdoms struggling to find peace, the marriage provision, and Kylo Ren.

Kylo Ren – the man who led the siege on the second bastion…

“He took you from me,” Rey whispers, “I should hate him, but I don’t. I…I _can’t_ hate him, Finn.”

Tears fall freely from her eyes, sliding down over the slope of her cheek before pattering to the dirt beneath where her head lays, as she thinks of her failed plots to avenge Finn, of the injustice that remains, of the blood-thirst she once had that has yet to be sated. She remembers her anger, her fury over the thought of Kylo Ren still walking among the living – of how a monster couldn’t deserve the life afforded to him; how she had wished to be ruinous when she had finally met him. But instead there is _this_ : the hollowness within him she understands. After learning of his truth it becomes so, so _easy_ to forgive, to no longer be consumed by abhorrence for someone infallibly _human_.

 _He_ is the reason she has come here. She feels like she is once more being torn apart between the two choices offered to her: _hold on_ or _move on._ She knows there is only one true option – because despite tragedies, the world will continue to spin, the sun will continue to rise and set, and the moons will always be there in the sky. She knows she has no actual say in the matter because it is fruitless to live in the darkness of grudges, and _yet—_

If any of them had any control over the situation, surely there would have never been any war. Or perhaps she could retrace to a time before that; if everything had been truly all right, no one would have offered her a chance for a new life far from Jakku. She would never have met Finn, never would have become a Rebel. She would have never known heartbreak and vengeance. She would not be here, feeling confused and prostrated, over a man she had once sworn to kill herself.

If Kylo Ren had a choice, perhaps he would have never become Kylo Ren at all.

“I don’t hate him,” she repeats, letting the words bleed into her heart. She is convincing herself more than she is informing the ghost of her friend. “I don’t hate him, Finn. Tell me it’s okay that I don’t. Tell me everything is going to be fine.”

There is a panic that seizes her, that causes her to choke with every word that comes out of her mouth. She is sure that she is being nothing but honest, and yet it sounds so terrible, hearing herself admit the truth of her feelings. Her fingers twitch before she regains control over the rest of her limb, and she finally reaches out to touch the smooth surface of the stone. In this position, with the sun shining above her, she continues to weep.

“Tell me it’s okay, Finn,” she cries, “tell me you understand. Tell me you’ll forgive me…”

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When she comes to, it’s by someone shaking her awake. Her eyes flutter open, but there is a new pain around her eyes she can attribute to having cried herself to sleep.

“Hey, kid.” The features of Poe’s charming face are contorted into an expression of concern. He is holding her, one hand still on her shoulder and another on the back of her head. Beyond his face, she sees the sky has turned to dark shades – iris fading to a deep indigo. Somewhere, the sun is setting, and the two moons have taken their place in the sky in its stead. How long has she been out? “Hey. You’re okay. You’re going to be okay, Rey.”

Those are words that are typical for Finn to say and they both know it. Poe is more aware of the situation than she is right now and he is doing _this,_ soothing her for her sake. If she could cry some more over his thoughtfulness, she would, but as of now she has run out of tears and feels more than just parched atop her soreness. She is also hungry, having gone without any form of sustenance for the day.

She falls forward and allows herself to rest her head on his shoulder. Poe doesn’t mind and instead gathers her into his arms, hugging her tightly enough to reassure her of his presence, of her being _okay_.

“How did you know I was here?” Rey asks, voice meek, projecting just how exhausted she is.

“The queen sent a message to the Rebel estate this morning inquiring if you were there. You apparently didn’t return with Lord Ren on a ride out last night.”

He had gotten back to the castle safely. There is a relief she feels from learning of this small bit of information, but there is also something else. They hadn’t walked a straight path during their ride, instead going around the mazelike streets of the city. If he had returned by himself, then it must mean he either has a remarkable memory or he really is of this land and knows the ways like a local would.

“And what did you say?”

“I said you brought in a delinquent Rebel who you caught sleeping on his shift and was overseeing his penalty,” Poe answers. “It wasn’t much of a cover anyway; Bastian did turn himself in just as you ordered him to.”

“You’re aware that lying to the queen can be counted as _treason_ , right?”

“I am. But Leia will let it pass if she knows the circumstances. You forget I also have a duty to keep you in line whenever you’re doing something stupid.”

“How does this count as being stupid?”

“I don’t know what exactly you’re doing here, but I’m sure there’s a reason you’re seeking Finn out.”

“It could be that I just miss him.”

“I know. I know it could be that. I miss him, too, but you—” Poe stops to pull away, to make her face him, tired eyes and all. “I _know_ you, Rey. You wouldn’t have gone straight here without escorting that noble back to the castle first if something wasn’t troubling you deeply. That was completely irresponsible of you.”

“He’s the one who left me!” Rey scoffs, indignant. She feels something rattling within her, a more silent kind of fury; but then it becomes washed over and replaced with dejection, a form of wretchedness she cannot fully comprehend its presence. It’s the same feeling from choosing manifesting itself once more. _Hold on or move on? It’s a simple choice, Rey._ And she’s already chosen, she has, really, but the reminder of what she is leaving behind stings at her at the moment. She starts, “I was…”

Poe doesn’t cut in while she formulates her thoughts; he isn’t expecting a response from her so quickly. Her co-captain is understanding this way; always has been so tolerant of everyone’s difference in processing hardships. He keeps holding her at a distance, his hand still on her shoulder; occasionally giving a tentative squeeze, tender and encouraging all at once.

“I was so wrong, Poe,” she says finally, after minutes of racking her head for how to explain it to her friend in a way just as open as she would be if she had been speaking to Finn instead. “I was wrong about Lord Ren. I had thought I could remain indifferent towards him, but he makes me – he makes me _feel_. After… After _Finn_ , I thought myself more guarded, yet he makes it impossible for me to keep myself away.”

“He’s the one who proposed to you, isn’t he?”

“So the news has already reached you, too?”

“I heard a few Rebels gossiping in the commons. Something in the lines of Lord Ren being bewitched and fixated on you after you had saved him at the ball.”

Rey rolls her eyes at the story being passed around which couldn’t be farther from the truth. “All he wants is a pretty little wife who is competent enough to help in the handling of the affairs of his estate. He thinks my rank as captain is adequate as a background and doesn’t care for me at all outside of that.”

“Well, what do _you_ want, Rey?” Poe questions with a look that is sympathetic. “Up to now, I don’t know what it is you mean to achieve by joining the selection pool. Once I thought you were plotting a revenge of sorts, but then you convinced me you were merely doing your duty.”

She lets out a sigh that she is convinced is telling, but Poe only smiles at her, silently cheering her on to answer.

“I wanted the truth.”

She had wanted to hear the admission of his guilt from his own lips. She imagined it quite often, her blade to his throat, urging him on, _tell me you killed Finn, tell me it was you, tell me you know what you’ve done, what you’ve taken from me_. Instead she had discovered the actuality of something else, of information more sensitive than she is privy to and now – now she is at a loss as to what it all means. And now that she knows—

“I don’t know what I want anymore.”

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Once upon a time, life was simple.

Adjusting to D’Qar had been simple enough for Rey. The weather was much more agreeable than that of Jakku; she could go out with just one layer of cloth covering her and she would not need to worry about burning her skin or adding anymore freckles to her already blemished flesh. She even need not worry about finding a roof to shelter her or toiling the day to earn some food by night. Her sole concern was making it through the various trials to be a Rebel, and she knew she had the strength – in mind, heart and body – to overcome whatever they threw her way.

It had been so easy.

The threat of the war worsening brought a sense of urgency to every single Rebel. While the civilians went on with their commerce and life in the city, the soldiers could not share the same ignorance. There were only a few Rebels remaining in D’Qar to oversee testing and training new recruits; the rest had travelled to Takodana to fight in the frontlines alongside the army and guard bastions. Despite their numbers being smaller than those signing up to be part of the elite warriors of the land, they made the tests no less difficult.

Overseeing the latest batch of recruits was the right-hand man of the present captain, his lieutenant, Finn. He was spirited, obliging and well-meaning to all those around him. He called everyone his friend and treated the recruits with the same respect that he would his colleagues. He was loud and optimistic, too, and he cheered for even the slightest of things, always finding a reason to celebrate little victories.

And he had looked after Rey throughout the whole process, helping her along as she learned how to fight – though she often teased him over how she had beaten him in their very first duel; to which he argued that it had not counted, for he had gone easy on her. In between the lectures on strategy and combat, there had been other subjects to dabble on for one to be considered a true Rebel: diplomacy, history and the arts, among others. They had spent afternoons inside the private function halls of the estate instead of outside on the training fields; they had spent hours _dancing_.

Rey had no foundation of such knowledge, and so Finn – who claimed to be the best dancer there ever was in the history of _ever_ – would always, without fail, take her on to be her partner. The younger woman had floundered over the steps, but Finn was patient, pertinacious. No matter how many times she ended up stepping on his toes and caused him to trip over an ankle and foot outstretched, still stuck in the last step, he would just laugh it off and start again, sweeping her into his arms and twirling her around.

His endearing nature, his kindness were just a few things that made it easy to love him.

So, so easy.

 

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“We have to go, Rey.” Poe stands first before holding out his hand to help her get up on her feet, too. She still feels weakened by the day spent lazing. There is still a lack of feeling at her extremities which will take a few minutes of walking to take away the numbness. “I’m not too sure, but I think Leia’s expecting you to make an appearance before the day ends.”

“To berate me for missing out on scheduled tea meetings with two nobles and the briefing on tomorrow’s gathering, no doubt,” Rey says as she rises, leaning onto Poe as she tries to get sensation back to her legs, “ _and_ for leaving Lord Ren unaccompanied on his ride back to the castle.”

Poe places her arm over his shoulders and his hand to her waist, holding her up as they walk back to their horses tied to the same tree.

“He’s a grown man who can handle himself,” he says, tone deriding. “I don’t know him as you do, but I feel his pride would be wounded should he admit to being incapable of finding his way back.”

“You’re not far off from my own expectations,” she laughs, “though he had confided to me that he does bear some trepidation. He thinks another attack like that at the ball may occur again.”

“Lord Ren had only been targeted because the attacker recognized _you_. He had been a soldier in the final battle and he knew who you were. He couldn’t tell apart the other volunteers of Ileenium from the nobles of Esstran, so he chose your partner to attack instead.”

“Perhaps I shouldn’t have interrupted. Maybe then that man would have some peace of mind.”

 _And so would I,_ Rey adds internally.

“You don’t mean that.”

Poe, as usual, is right. But saying these alternative thoughts out loud, speaking freely, eases her somewhat. She knows the consequences if she hadn’t acted out: a breach of trust, a violation of the armistice; another war beginning anew. She may not like the man, but her wish for vengeance is not worth the security of their kingdom’s future. She knows this.

“I don’t,” she concedes, pushing away from Poe and reclines her back on the thick bark of the tree instead. Her legs feel better now, though she still feels weak. It isn’t so bad for Rey; she had gone on for longer without food than she could bother to remember. One day is nothing compared to the cumulative sufferings of her youth. 

The senior captain shrugs off his jacket and places the leatherwear over her shoulders. She had used her riding cape as a makeshift blanket overnight and so it had been covered in grit. Poe had grabbed it before they left Finn’s grave, which Rey had failed to notice him do, and is now folding it into the satchel at the side of Rey’s horse. She smiles appreciatively at her dear friend and he returns her beam with a grin of his own, winsome yet weary.

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The first time she met Poe Dameron, captain of the Rebels, had been on the road back to D’Qar. The mixed groups of soldiers, Rebels and recruits from the various villages of Jakku met up before travelling back to the capital together. He had pushed his way through a crowd gathered around the sight of a mock duel between a young girl from the desert and one of the high-ranking Rebels – the lieutenant, no less. After she had bested the man, the captain had expressed his favorable impression for her skills, no matter how raw.

He accompanies them to D’Qar, stopping at the estate just to rest before riding off to the frontlines, leading battles as an esteemed fighter and rider; someone deserving of the rank of captain.

When they meet again, it’s a few weeks shy of half a year after – with her preparations complete. She is inducted into the Rebels along with five others; with her being the youngest and newest recruit in this batch. Rey hears rumors of her being considered so quickly due to Finn’s favor, but anyone who dared to bring it up to her face would get a thorough beating; Rey can prove how she deserves to be called a Rebel. The rest have yet to complete the trials and will continue training until they are deemed ready or until they quit. They try to be as merry as possible despite the formality of the ceremony, but it is for naught. The news of the latest loss – over a hundred soldiers dead in a surprise attack – causes the whole event to be cast in a gloom. There is an urgency unlike before and Rey knows they only have a day of rest after their celebrations before they must ride to Takodana to join the fray.

Finn rides up north to join them not a month after. Through this reunion does she come to truly know the captain. She notices his and Finn’s closeness, and sometimes there is a gnawing in her gut she can’t pinpoint – it’s not _jealousy_ , she tells herself on more than one occasion. But at the same time, it is. Regardless, she comes to admire Poe; to aspire to be like him.

 _He kept you close because I told him to,_ he tells her one night in passing, right before he retires to his private tent. _I saw something in you and you being here now just proves that you really have what it takes, kid. Maybe you’ll even be given my rank should I die in the next battle._

 _Please don’t joke about that, Sir,_ she had offered, a bit shyly. He just shrugs in response, showing he is just as laid back as she expected him to be from all the stories of him from the Rebels who trained her in D’Qar.

 _He loves you,_ Poe says, humorless now, _and if I do die in the next battle – or in any one of the battles to come – then I want you to take care of him._ The sudden shift in topic causes a shockwave to reverberate through her bones, and she is unable to move, to react. Sure, there had been talks of Finn’s potential feelings for her but the two of them had both dismissed any and all of the rumors. Rey is dumbfounded, stares blankly at the captain who looks too austere to be kidding around; but then he throws her a grin and continues, _Finn will be distraught if he loses me, that sentimental sucker. He’ll be crying for days._

Though, three years later, with the end of the war still not in sight, despite all his expectations, it is Poe who is weeping at the loss of Finn and not the other way around.

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Poe escorts her all the way to the castle, which takes them about an hour and a half of riding. Despite the lateness of the hour in which they arrive, he orders one of the servants to bring Rey some food in her room and to begin drawing her bath and tells another handmaiden to inform the queen, if she is awake, of Rey’s arrival. They rush off to do as told while Rey and Poe lead their horses to the stables themselves.

“You’ll be okay,” he says, waiting for her to dismount. He would offer to help, but he knows that Rey is adamant about being more than capable of getting off her own horse, despite her being noticeably worn out.

“I will,” she answers, “I’ll be fine. Thanks for bringing me back, Poe.”

“It’s nothing, kid. Just promise me next time you’ll try talking to me first before running away to Finn. I know it’s not the same, but— I want you to know I’m here. I’m still here. And I’m going to be here for you until I can’t.”

Rey knows it has been over a year, but this is the first time in so long that she’s truly felt Finn’s presence. Instinctively, she launches herself to bring Poe into a hug – as she used to whenever she was reunited with Finn – and with her face pressed on his chest, she laughs, she cries, she breathes out, “Thank you. Thank you so much, Poe.”

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While she bathes, a young handmaiden comes into her quarters and tells her that the queen requests to see her as soon as she has cleaned herself up. Rey says her thanks for relaying the message and once she’s heard the servant girl take her leave, rises from the tub half-filled with water that has now gone cold. She feels the draft as soon as she comes up and she shivers as she is without cover. When she dresses, she still feels a chill – a telling sign of her being enervated. Yawning, she trudges on to continue with the task of dressing herself. Better to face Leia now than putting it off for the next day.

Putting on the simplest of nightdresses, she steps out, lamp in hand. In her worn state, however, she does not sense someone outside her door. Rey is only vaguely aware of the rough hands grasping her upper arms and pushing her to the wall, the sudden forceful motion causing her to drop the lamp; the candle within the chamber dying as it hits the ground. The loud clattering of the metal snaps her awake – that, and the ungentle treatment of the back of her head on the bricks – and she finally makes out the vexed quality of Kylo Ren’s face.

“Who told you?” he queries, livid though with a hushed voice. “Tell me who told you." 

She squirms in place, struggles to be released from his hold. Her arms are trapped in place and he stands at a far enough distance that swinging her legs wouldn’t do much. She _knows_ how to escape, but she’d have to hurt him to do so – and explaining how she had bruised the noble is something she doesn’t want to have to do to the queen.

“Let me go,” she demands in turn, tone lowering in warning. “Lord Ren, you _will_ release me at once.”

Technically, he does as she says. He frees up one hand and instead of holding her like he is doing with the other, he strikes his fist onto the wall, to a spot inches away from her head. Rey flinches perceptibly and if she had been a lesser person, she would have most likely cried – or worse, soiled herself with fright. The sound of the impact resonates in her ears and she imagines how pained his fist must be. He wouldn’t hurt her, that much is clear to Rey, so she chooses to stay still, not fighting his grip as it strains her as well when she tries to break free.

“Tell me who told you,” he repeats, hand still pressed onto the wall.

“You’re not as astute as I perceived you to be. Surely you could have figured out how I learned of the truth of your circumstances without resorting to cornering me late at night like this. If anyone sees us right now, Lord Ren, it will be cause for scandal.”

“I could not care any less about how others perceive me.”

“Oh, yes, that’s why you’re questioning me as to how I know. Because you _don’t_ care for my opinion with regards to your being someone else other than Kylo Ren.”

“This is not a matter I take lightly.”

“I’m sure. You had just proven as much by punching a hole to the wall outside my quarters.”

“ _Rey_.” The way he enunciates the single syllable that comprises her name sends an unconscious quiver down her spine; makes her feel as though something dances atop her skin, leaving tingles and fine hairs risen. It is the same way he said it the night before – with a gentleness she cannot fully describe. His focus on her remains, and she meets this intensity head-on; gaze unwavering. He does, however, release some pressure on his hold. He still has her arm in his grasp, but it is softer and lighter now; almost delicate. She watches as a muscle in his jaw ticks, as he fights to regain control.

“ _Ren_.” She holds up a placating hand on his chest and carefully pushes him further away from her, until he lets go completely and stands, no longer touching her in any form. “You had asked for my hand before. You didn’t consider that I would have learned it eventually should I have agreed?”

“I am not so much concerned about you knowing as I am finding out who dared break my confidence.”

“Well, if you must know, it was Lord Hux.” As he turns, probably to stalk off to his fellow noble and confront him as he did her, she grabs at the sleeve of his coat to make him stay. She does not want to hear any story of hostilities between the two lords in the morning – but if it is inevitable, then she would at least _try_ to pacify Ren enough to not beat Hux senseless. “If he hadn’t told me, I would still be ignoring you.”

“You were ignoring me,” he says rather dumbly. At least the crinkles of his eyes are less from a glare as he speaks now. “When I had given you no reason for such puerile behavior—”

“No such reason? You gave me _every_ reason to!”

“How so?” 

“You had only proposed because you thought you owed it to me!”

“That’s _your_ presumption. In actuality, I saw in you qualities that would make for a fine wife.”

“How could you have? You barely knew me then and you _still_ know little of me.”

“Perhaps if you had not been keen on _ignoring_ me—”

“Oh, so it’s _my_ fault now—”

“I want you,” he states, cutting her off finally, shutting her up. “I do not know what it will take for me to convince you that my intentions are nothing less than genuine when I ask you to accept my hand. Do you wish for me to list your qualities that I admire? I can do so if you simply ask. Or perhaps we should refer to your stipulations from your previous rejection. Do you want to hear of how I’ve fallen madly in love with you, captain? If you wish it, I will tell you that. Every day, for so long as I’m able, for so long as you allow it.” 

Rey can sense something inside her twisting; her heart contorting from his words. She turns her head to the side and closes her eyes and feels it once more, how she is taxing herself to stay awake. The queen is expecting her – has been expecting her for a while now – and yet she remains in the presence of another man.

“My lord, don’t be ridiculous,” she respires. There is a temptation, however; her own want of his offers pulling her to keep listening. How she would love to be loved, no matter the source. It is a desire as human as any. When she reopens her eyes and looks back at him again, she sees he has pressed his lips together in anticipation; his gaze searching, a little too hard, a little too penetrating. “You need not lie to convince me of anything. It would only tarnish your integrity.”

 “And if it is not a lie…?”

They spring apart as soon as they hear the echo of footsteps – not just of one person, but of at least four. Rey doesn’t move, continues to lean on the wall outside her room; Ren is the one who moves backward fast enough to stand on the opposite side of the dim corridor. If they had been caught so close in the darkness, they would be accused of impropriety. The stomps become louder as whoever is coming to encroach on their conversation draws closer. Still, Rey cannot tear her gaze away from him. Her heart continues to race, to thud against her ribcage as her stomach twists about. She has to clutch at the thin fabric of her dress to keep herself from shaking.

 “There you are!” Leia rounds into the corridor and quickens her pace as she sights the young captain. The guards accompanying her halt and wait for their queen to finish her business with the younger woman. “I had sent another messenger after your absence at the briefing, but they came back saying you and Poe were both out of the estate.”

“My queen,” Rey greets, pushing herself off the wall and giving a dainty curtsy. “Poe and I had gone out to attend to some personal business. I’m sorry for failing to inform you.”

As Leia sighs, Ren walks up to the middle of the aisle and gives a stiff bow. The monarch looks visibly startled at his appearance, but Rey isn’t surprised; Ren hides in the shadows very well, blending in the darkness with his sable surcoat.

“Your highness,” he formally addresses the older woman facing him, staring through him as though she sees a specter in his place. “I apologize for keeping Rey. I hadn’t known she had meant to meet you. Captain.” He turns back to the girl, their eyes meeting another time, static until he speaks, “Good night.”

She watches as he walks away, steps weighty and loud. When she looks back at the queen, Leia is intently eyeing her, asking a multitude of questions with just her gaze. In that moment, Rey realizes that whatever her conversation with Kylo Ren was –

_And if it is not a lie...?_

– it  _is_ a complication.

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (runs to hide from all the tomatoes being thrown)
> 
> Reactions? Questions? Feel free to comment away or ask them over at [my tumblr](http://kaathiiee.tumblr.com/). :)
> 
> Also I can't believe I'm almost at 400 kudos! Wow. Thank you guys so much!!!!
> 
> (runs again to cry in a corner)


	8. Fever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been more than a month since my last update and I'm sorry! The entirety of May was hell with all the exams and requirements, but it's summer now! I didn't update earlier because I was still recovering from surgery, but I'm good now and I don't want to keep you guys waiting any longer. :)

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“Rey.” 

Leia’s voice as she calls for the younger captain is flat, almost toneless, and it is honestly more terrifying than the ordeal with Kylo Ren earlier. She is more used to the queen speaking stentorian to an assembly or the court. Even when they have to meet in person for official reports and updates, Leia takes on a more light and joking tone; always positive even when the situation is grim. But now – now she sounds more like her actual age, weighed down by the years and all the grief she’s had to put aside for her kingdom. It’s more than enough to make her stop thinking about the not-so foreign noble who had just left.

“Queen Leia,” Rey wavers in her greeting to the monarch. “I was just on my way to you but got held up by Lord Ren, as you saw.”

“He was quick to leave,” Leia remarks, a thin brow raised.

“I’ve learned he has a tendency to flee when he feels the slightest bit of mortification, your highness.”

“So he does.” Still, she sounds tired despite the small smile she offers. “I had just wanted to check up on you. You didn’t return last night and you also failed to meet with two other nobles today.”

“I’m fine, my queen. Thank you for your concern.”

“It’s not like you to skip out on your responsibilities.”

“I apologize. I didn’t intend to disappoint you, your highness.”

“What I feel for you, Rey, is far from disappointment. I’m _worried_ for you, dear. Word of your dealings with Kylo Ren has reached me.”

“And so you also know that I refused him.”

“I fear that at this point it doesn’t matter whether you accept his formal proposal or not, Rey.” The queen frowns, deepening the creases on her face. “He announced his intentions to claim you as his bride, and no one would dare contest that. Not with his… _history._ ”

“His history,” Rey repeats Leia’s words. “You know what happened to him.”

The Rebel captain feels something constrict in her chest. _Anticipation._ For a confirmation that someone else understands what she’s starting to feel for Kylo Ren. That someone she looks up to wouldn’t look down on her for feeling some sympathy of sorts for the noble despite the atrocities he has committed in the war.

“I know enough,” Leia says, weary. “It’s what I have intelligence officers such as Threepio for.”

Rey wants to keep pushing, to find out just how much information on Kylo Ren’s past the queen has; but it is neither the place nor time to ask. The lateness of the hour is finally registering after all the hours of sleep she has accumulated from the day spent hiding away. The queen, on the other hand, most likely did not have the same luxury Rey took for herself; having to face dignitaries, continuing to smoothen out the final provisions for the marriages as the deadline is drawing near. Rey has taken up enough of the queen’s time as is, and she isn’t about to begin being anything less than considerate.

“Is there any other reason you came to see me, my queen?” Rey asks. “The hour is late and I’m sure you need your rest. 

Leia reaches out to place a hand on her shoulder, offering her some comfort. There is a gentleness in her eyes, one she recognizes from another face, from another night. “I do not know what kind of man Kylo Ren is after the war, but I think that him being here in D’Qar means he wants this peace as much as we do. If there is someone who could match him, I genuinely believe it’s you, Rey.”

“My queen…?”

There is finality in the squeeze Leia gives her. Rey has so many questions. _Why? Why me? Why do you believe it could be me?_ But she cannot voice any of these, for she doesn’t need any further prompting. The queen has ended the conversation, and there is nothing Rey can do or say that will give her the answers she seeks. Not now, anyway.

“Good night, Rey.”

 

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Her sleep is broken – if one could even call this sleep at all. She keeps flitting in and out of sleep, turning fitfully in bed. If Rey is being honest to herself, she still isn’t completely used to lying on soft mattresses. Back in Jakku, all she had in the closet of Unkar Plutt’s homestead was a cot to rest in after a day’s hard work either collecting metal in the desert or running errands around the village. Her back on a hard surface is what she is accustomed to. Even with the noise of war, she had some of her most peaceful slumbers in the barracks at Takodana.

But the beds at the Rebel estate and here in the queen’s castle make her feel unsure. They are comfortable, but they do not feel like they are meant to be hers. As though she has taken over someone else’s body and filled in their shoes, possessed a life not meant for herself. Poe has told her once – or maybe thrice, to be more exact – that she’s worked to get where she is now, to have what she has now; but it never feels that way. It never feels like she _deserves_ the life she has now.

On nights that her thoughts are plagued with nightmares, with visions of blood and mangled flesh in war-torn landscapes, of encampments devastated with death of comrades; of a village burning down with Finn being the hero he can’t help but be – she wakes up drenched in sweat, her heart racing and her fingers shaking, and she thinks: _how am I even alive?_

She knows the answer is in her blood. She is Rey of Jakku, forged in the heat of the sun and the expanse of desolation of the desert. Being a survivor has been written in her bones before she even realized what she had become.

And what she is now is restless.

As she had done many times before, she steps out to the balcony adjoining her room, pulling herself up to sit on the ledge. The night sky is cloudless, making it brighter than usual nights with the light from the two moons shining without impediment. It’s more than enough for her to see which branch of the tree closest to her room she has to hold on to. She is confident enough in her movements that even if she closes her eyes, she is sure she can bring herself down. She lands on the firm ground with her bare feet meeting the cool grass, moist with dew. She trudges on and enters the central garden, which, in the evenings, transforms itself and becomes nothing short of spectacular, magical.

If there is one thing she can count on to grant her some peace of mind, it’s the sight of flowers. They were a rare sight in the desert and a minder that if they could somehow find a way to live in the harshest of lands, then so could she. The mist settles on the petals, making them glisten in the moonlight; silver reflecting a myriad of colors, somehow – there is a mystery to its beauty Rey can’t describe, can’t begin to fathom.

But it doesn’t bother her. Some things, Rey knows, are more beautiful because they cannot be understood.

She walks until she is near the other end of the garden, where just beyond the trees are the rooms of the guests from Esstran. She realizes then that the last time she had been here was on the night of their arrival, when she had been filled with anxiety. She remembers standing at the very same spot, looking upward. It was dark then, and somebody was there, leaning on the railings of the balcony; but only a silhouette could be seen. She remembers wondering to herself while staring at the figure swathed in darkness, _are you Kylo Ren?_

She looks up now, going through the very same motions, a memory imbued in her muscles, and asks herself once more: _did he even survive the war?_

Kylo Ren looks down at her, initially looking startled at her appearance, but then he hides away the daze in his eyes and puts on a face of impassivity, leaving nothing to be read. She keeps her gaze on him, though, and thinks to herself that he is beautiful because he cannot be understood. Not fully. Not when he himself remains elusive to his own past.

He doesn’t even acknowledge her presence. He turns around and retreats to his chambers. Somehow, she knows he does this because he doesn’t have anything to say to her – and it is not like she has words for him either. She wouldn’t know what would come out of her mouth anyway if she had allowed herself to speak. Her tongue would betray her, surely.

Rey remains rooted for a few minutes after Kylo Ren’s departure, thoughts weighing her down to stay as still as the trees in the vicinity in this draftless night.

_Did he even survive the war?_

When she walks back to the direction of her own room, it is only because she has found one concrete answer, something that could untether her from the waking world; enough for her to find some respite, finally.

_None of us did._

 

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The rapping on her door sounds more like a bell in her head, perpetually ringing after each strike, adding layers upon layers of dissonance. She winces and grabs the pillow closest to her head and pushes the soft cushion over her ears – which does little to silence the din or quell the throbbing beneath her temples.

Everything hurts.

Before another knock can hit the heavy wood, and add to Rey’s agony, the handmaiden assigned to the captain’s care pulls the door to open inward. The lithe figure of Jessika Pava rushes in as soon as there is enough space to fit through and runs over to her friend’s bedside. She takes the pillow over Rey’s head away, setting it aside. Rey grumbles at the sudden flux of light meeting her eyes; the handmaiden had pushed the curtains of the balcony aside and this time in the morning the sun shines directly on this side of the castle. She growls, ready to berate the handmaiden for moving the curtains, but then the pain reemerges and she is left whimpering.

“Oh, hush,” Jessika says, taking Rey’s hand in hers and placing the other over her friend’s forehead. “You’re burning up.”

“I feel awful,” Rey whines, pushing Jessika’s hand away. She doesn’t feel like she’s burning up, though. Burning was the sensation of the heat of sand directly beneath your feet. Burning was the stinging sensation of skin peeling off after too much exposure to the sun. Rey isn’t burning – at least not in the way she’s always known. Instead, she feels _cold_ ; as though all the warmth within her has been carried away by a draft. “Do you have something for me?”

“I do,” Jessika ascertains, bringing out a tinted bottle out of the bag she brought with her, a written label stuck over with words too small for Rey to decipher. “Fresh stock from the apothecary.” She removes the cork and pours some of the viscous liquid into a spoon, filling it to the brim before bringing it to Rey’s lips. Her patient willingly takes the medicine and gulps it down, scrunching her face into a nauseated expression as soon as the aftertaste registers. 

“That only made me feel worse,” the Rebel captain accuses, gagging. The handmaiden rushes over with a cup of tea to wash away the flavor and Rey accepts the offering, grateful.

“You will have two more today if you want to feel any better; one after your meal at noon and the other right before you go to sleep at night,” Jessika orders, handing the bottle over to the handmaiden. “And you will also be staying in bed today.”

“We have a gathering today,” Rey reminds her friend.

“And you’ll be skipping out on it, sadly.”

“It’s the _last day_ before the matches are due.”

“You’re worried for that? Everyone knows it’s going to be you and Lord Ren that will be paired off anyway.”

“I rejected him." 

“Everyone knows it’s going to be you and Lord Ren,” Jessika repeats, more authority in her voice. Then, she lowers her tone, sounding more clement. “No one else is going to make you an offer, not when Lord Ren has his eyes set on you.”

Rey closes her eyes as another wave of pain washes over her. There is both this physical pain set behind her eyes and in her joints that comes from having a fever and then there is the emotional one that is choking at her, that tugs at her heart; the pain that involves the mere thought of having to marry Kylo Ren. While she can more or less tolerate him now, she can’t imagine having to live her whole life tied down to him.

“Oh, he doesn’t deserve you, Rey; I don't think anyone does,” Jessika offers her consolingly, placing her cool hand on Rey’s hot cheek. “But he’s in love with you. I know it. All he ever does is ask about you.”

“He’s not in love with me,” Rey bites back, resolute, as fierce as she can argue in her weakened state.

Jesssika Pava laughs unabashedly, even daring to pinch at Rey’s cheek. The embarrassed captain swats away her friend’s hand for the second time this morning and rumbles something about Jessika being annoying beneath her breath. 

“The talk during breakfast was that Lord Hux’s bruised face is from Lord Ren defending your honor,” Jessika says, “is there any truth to those rumors?”

“My honor! I don’t need anyone defending me.”

“I know that, but no one else could make something up for the ugly contusion on the side of Hux’s face. I had to tend to him before coming here and he was terribly grumpy about it, muttering about how he was helping Lord Ren in actuality. It’s a good story, and makes for quite the romantic plot.”

“It’s a terrible lie, that’s what it is. If anything, Lord Ren was defending his own pride,” Rey scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest. She had not expected to awaken to the throbbing, the fever that greeted her before she even opened her eyes, but the presence of her friend is helping her with her ailment somehow. The new rumors, meanwhile, only sour her mood, add to the discomfort of her ague. 

Jessika rises from Rey’s bedside with a shake of her head. “In any case, stay in bed. That’s an order for you, Captain.”

“You don’t rank higher than me, Jess.” 

“Not when it comes to matters of life and death. I’m the expert here. Doctor, remember?”

Rey stops to consider. Jessika wasn’t there at the frontlines; she hadn’t witnessed the vista that had been the clashing of life and death in a battle. There had been so many bodies, Rey recalls, all bloodied and mutilated; others calling for aid, others crawling back to colleagues that could help them get back up on their feet. There were so many – so, _so_ many on the precipice, teetering between life and death.

But what Jessika means is something else, and Rey sees it as a moot point should she even bring it up. So she resigns, sinks back into her soft mattress and pillows – the ones she could never fully adjust to – and tells her friend, “I’m not going to die, Jess. Not today, and definitely not from a fever." 

Jessika leans over to plant a chaste kiss on Rey’s forehead. When she stands properly again, she gives Rey a grin with a playful wink. “The medicine should be kicking in soon so I’ll be taking my leave. You get some rest, alright?” 

“Alright,” Rey answers. When Jessika turns to the handmaiden to give more instructions, she closes her eyes and allows herself to be lulled by their exchange – until the words sound dull, nonsensical; until the medicine enters her bloodstream and she dozes off.

 

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The war is far from Rey’s very first brush with death. Back in Jakku, on her thirteenth year, she had fallen ill and thought she was going to die. She hadn’t known what had overcome her; why she had felt like she was the sun, burning up, heating everything she touched. She had hidden away in her room, afraid for herself. The staff under Plutt’s house had thought she had gotten an early start and went into the desert before dawn. It was only in the evening that someone had actually bothered to check up on her and found her unconscious and struggling to breathe.

 _She’s just tired,_ the doctor had said. _Let her sleep it out. Give her lots of water. She’ll be fine in a few days._

 _Pah,_ Plutt sneered at her as soon as the doctor exited the doorway. _What use are you to me if you are sick, girl?_

This is what she dreams of now as she slumbers. Not her good training days in the Rebel estate nor the bad crusade to win back the lands of Takodana for her kingdom, but Plutt defining her worth by the work she is able to do. The very first terror of her life; one that has haunted her longer than visions of the war. She has only known service for as long as she can remember – for Plutt, for the Rebels, for the people, for the queen. She has been too loyal for her own good, doing as she’s told out of duty, and rarely had she been selfish enough to do something that serves only herself.

She had once believed that if she could only have one wish, one thing that she could have with no regard for consequences or for anyone else, it would be to avenge Finn. And she had failed. She had tried, but she failed.

 _I’m just tired_. In her dreams, she is able to admit to it. In her dreams, she is back in the clearing, holding on to a stone that feels too cold to the touch. _I’m so tired, Finn._

 

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When she reopens her eyes, she sees that the light outside is iris tinged with tangerine. _Dusk_. The gathering must have begun by now, and she realizes that she’s slept through the entire day. She sits up and reclines on the board at the back of her bed, easing herself out of the initial disorientation. At her motions, the handmaiden rises from her seat in one corner, carefully placing the book she had been reading on a desk before coming to Rey’s side.

“Good evening, my lady captain,” she greets with a dainty curtsy, “are you hungry? Do you wish for me to run to the kitchen to fetch you your supper?”

Surprisingly, Rey isn’t as hungry as she expects herself to be. She hadn’t eaten anything whole yesterday and she couldn’t stomach the pastries brought to her room for breakfast. When she sees that the bottle of medicine Jessika had brought for her earlier isn’t as full as it had been when the doctor had left, she asks, “Have I eaten?”

“At noon, you did, my lady,” the handmaiden – Sabé is her name, if Rey is not mistaken, after a great-grandmother who had also served the royal house – answers. “And also you took your medicament, as Doctor Pava ordered.”

“Did I? I seem to have no recollection of waking before now…”

“The queen also came by, my lady. You had been asleep when she did. I asked if she needed to speak with you and if you needed to be roused out of your slumber, but she said that she had only come to check on you.”

“That was kind of her to do so." 

“She asked me to tell you of her well wishes. That she hopes you may soon recover from whatever that is which ails you.” 

There is a sore muscle that aches on her right arm. She reaches for the spot with her left hand, massaging over the aching skin, attempting to untangle whatever knots are beneath. She has a tendency to sleep on her side so the throbbing is nothing unforeseen. Rey, however, is thankful that her headache has somehow subsided and that the pain she feels isn’t as much as it had been this morning. She gladly accepts the cramp of her arm over the torment of a migraine. 

“Is there anyone else who came by?” Rey inquires as she pours herself a cup of tea from the pot placed on the table at her bedside.

“Other than Lord Ren?”

“Lord Ren?” She chokes on her drink, spews some of it out, wetting spots on the linen. The stains would normally bother her and make her feel conscious of what she’s done, but her current disbelief at the revelation is more prominent to herself than any other feeling. “Lord Ren came to my room?”

“You were awake then, my lady.” Sabé sounds confused. “He sat by your bed and the two of you spoke for what could be almost an hour. Perhaps even more.”

“We spoke? I don’t remember any conversation!” Rey is panicking at this point, racking at her brain for any semblance of memories for the afternoon. If they had exchanged any words, Rey cannot for the life of her recall. She could not call to mind anything from the afternoon at all. She pushes away the sheets and her blanket, moving to sit on the side of her bed and then stand; but her legs are wobbly, do not feel stable at all. “Sabé, you have to tell me what happened. What did he say? What did _I_ say?”

The young handmaiden only mirrors her distress, and both of them enter a state of frenzy. “I wasn’t privy to your conversation, my lady. You were both speaking in whispers. Lord Ren urged me that you would be fine by his side and so I stayed at the other end of the room, reading.”

“What else?”

“I didn’t mean to pry, but I did see he was holding your hand. I don’t know, my lady, I couldn’t hear you. I’m sorry. When he left to prepare for the gathering, you were crying. You were laughing, too.” 

“I was crying? Laughing?”

“Yes, my lady, you were as you said to me, _‘I’m going to marry that man.’”_

 

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At first, there is a disagreement. _I have to go!_ countered by _The lady doctor ordered you to stay put!_ being thrown back and forth between the two ladies in the room. Rey’s stubbornness wins out after minutes of arguing and though Sabé is frustrated with her, the young handmaiden still does as she is politely asked.

Sabé tries to make Rey as presentable as possible in the least amount of time, which is a miracle because Rey cannot stop _moving_ , keeps fidgeting in place. She is already in a decent gown, face powdered to hide away some of the wrinkles of sleep. All that is left to do is to untangle her hair and place it in a simple updo – which proves difficult to the poor handmaiden because the Rebel captain keeps twisting about as she brushes through the brunette’s locks.

“If my lady captain would please stop moving!” Sabé cries, exasperated, throwing her hands in the air. Any other time, Rey would have laughed and joked; but now she is too panicked to even tease. 

Rey complies, eventually, digging her nails into the thin layers of fabric of her dress as Sabé finishes fixing her hair, placing the last pin. When Sabé declares her appearance as passable, Rey practically sprints out of her room – though, she is very much impaired, with her legs still weakened. She runs for a few seconds before her lungs feel knocked out, before she is winded and has to lean back on the wall to support herself, stopping in the middle of the dimly lit corridor.

It’s a bad idea to be out of her room when Jessika had ordered her to rest, when she herself knows that her body can’t handle it, but she _has to_. She had somehow gotten herself _engaged_ to the man she once hated but now tolerates and it is in no way a situation she wants to be in. Everyone else is convinced that they would end up together and the odds of her finding a way out are against her favor, but she has done everything on her own terms ever since she began her new life outside of Jakku. Everything she goes through is her choice, out of her own volition. This engagement is _not_.

She carries on, pushing herself off the wall and walking to the direction of one of the ballrooms spacious enough to accommodate a large gathering. She has to take a break every now and then to breathe, to push air back into her heaving lungs. It is only now that Rey remember the feeling of being in the castle for the very first time, taking in just how sizeable the place is.

It takes her twice as long as she usually does to arrive in the ballroom in the west wing, but she knows she is where she needs to be because can hear the music even while she’s still in the corridor. When she has the large arced doors in her sights, she sees two Rebels stationed outside, keeping guard. They are relaxed, casually talking to each other, but when they spot her they separate back into their positions, saluting in a stiffened pose.

“Captain!” they greet in unison. They look to each other before one speaks up, “We were informed of your affliction and told you weren’t coming.”

“I’m better now,” she lies through her teeth. “Please let me in.”

“Do you wish for us to announce you?”

“No, no. That’s unnecessary. Just open the door, please.”

As soon as she slithers through the doorway, she is hit with just how _loud_ everything is: the music from the quartet, the chatters of the people, the clinking of the silverwares as they dine. Combined, they create a dissonance that is uncomfortable for Rey to bear, and she feels the reemergence of her migraine. She takes a minute to herself, leaning on a pillar, hidden behind shadows, and calms herself, adjusts. It pains her, but she must go on. _My own terms,_ she reminds herself of the reason why she has come.

Tonight is the formal pronouncement of engagements. Those who are decided will have submitted their names earlier today while those who are not have until tomorrow to pick through the selection of volunteers. To everyone else, it may seem rushed, but they all knew the timeline of events; they had been briefed from the very beginning. By now the nobles from Esstran will have been away from their respective strongholds for more than a fortnight. They will spend the rest of the week arranging the details for the ceremonies – when will it be, where it will be conducted, which customs will be upheld – and the next week will be spent on their travel back to their kingdom. It is a month of them being away from their duties and out of consideration for them, the queen and her advisors had allowed for the curt courtships, if one could even call their forced interactions that.

Rey had known all this, but she hadn’t meant to concede to Kylo Ren with the pressure of time. She hadn’t meant to concede _ever_. Her first no meant _no_ , for she could not imagine a life trying to love the murderer of her friend. She could learn to not hate him, but to love him is an entirely different matter.

Once she feels strong enough to resume her hunt for the damned noble who had somehow managed to get a _yes_ out of her in her drug-induced haze. She had been out of her mind from the medicine; that’s why she couldn’t recall ever speaking with him today – or at least, that’s what Rey is telling herself now because if she had any of her wits about her, she wouldn’t have entertained him at all.

“Rey!” Jessika is the first one to notice her presence and the doctor rushes over to her friend – who should very much be following orders to stay in bed. “What in the _Force_ are you doing here?”

Jessika _shrieks_ in her reprimand _,_ calling attention to the pair of ladies. Luckily enough, Kylo Ren is on the other side of the room, talking to people Rey doesn’t recognize – she guesses they are representatives from Esstran who had travelled to witness the pronouncement. Rey doesn’t really care who they are when there are more urgent matters to be dealt with. She takes Jessika by the hand and musters enough of her strength to pull her to the side where less ears and eyes will be on them. 

“Kylo Ren came to visit me this afternoon.”

“And?”

“We had words apparently – a conversation which _I don’t remember_!”

“The medicine _is_ supposed to make you groggy, like in the way you’ve had too much ale.”

“You didn’t tell me!”

“You were supposed to be sleeping the whole day anyway!” Jessika confutes, but then softens when she senses Rey’s distress. “I’m sorry. What’s the matter?”

“Apparently what came out of that conversation is that I’m now engaged to him!”

“I don’t know, Rey, people don’t lie when they’re drunk. If you said yes to him while under the effects of the medicine, then that’s something you’re simply denying.”

“Jess, _please_.” 

“Okay. Okay, Rey. We’ll find him. We’ll go tell him it was a mistake,” Jessika says, heartening. She places the back of her hand on Rey’s forehead and frowns when she feels the heat emanating from the expanse of flesh. “You’re still burning up. This isn’t a good idea for you to be out here.” 

“I’m fine. I’ll be fine if we fix this.”

“Come.” Jess squeezes Rey’s hand. “I know where he is.”

Rey also knows where he is, having spotted him earlier – funny, how easy it is for her to spot him in such a crowd, how she is able to find him without even searching. They reenter the assembly and navigate through different groups, Jessika politely smiling at and greeting the people she knows with Rey sulking behind her, too tired to put on a façade. Eventually they reach the table where Kylo Ren is, surrounded by other people from Esstran. 

“Lady Pava,” he greets first as he rises from his seat. When he sees her, he smiles and somehow Rey perceives it as indelicate, as though it is purposefully mocking. “Captain.”

“Lady Pava!” One portly woman addresses with a haughty air. “You are Lady Phasma’s fiancée, are you not?”

“Yes, it is not yet formally announced, but yes.” Jessika confirms with a beam. She offers one more squeeze of Rey’s hand before dropping it, placing her palm on the back of Rey’s dress and pushing her forward. “We’re here for Lord Ren, actually. Captain Rey wishes to speak with him.”

“Oh, of course, of course!” the lady says, as though she had known of their intentions from the moment of their arrival. “Yes, well, Lord Ren, don’t keep your bride-to-be waiting. Go, go!”

At the insistence of the rest of the group, Ren does as he’s told. He walks over to where Rey is standing and offers his arm – only to be rejected. She walks away to a secluded area, a corner where they could speak without being overheard, and he follows her. If they leave the gathering altogether, it would be cause for an even greater scandal and just the thought of it makes Rey dizzy. Jessika is left entertaining the foreign delegates Ren had left, but it’s not at all a difficult feat for her to charm them because she’s _Jessika_.

Alone – or as alone as they could be in the company of others – Rey finally lets loose the anger that she has allowed to simmer ever since she heard the news of her _own_ engagement.

“We are _not_ getting married, Lord Ren.”

“But we are,” he replies, tepid. “I have already given our names to be announced tonight.”

The submission had required both their signatures – but Rey doesn’t even question him about acquiring hers. _He tricked me_ , she thinks; _he had taken advantage of my being sick_.

“Take it back, or I will say it is a mistake.”

Her claim is not as important. Kylo Ren has a witness to her _possibly_ saying yes, and Sabé would not lie if asked, especially if the queen oversees the investigation. It is her word against his and her word doesn’t amount to much when he has both her signature and a witness. The odds are far from in her favor, but she has to _try_ to convince him to let her go.

“I don’t think you saw your initial response as a mistake when I had proposed again this afternoon.”

“I am _sick_! I was under the influence of some medicine when you spoke to me. I was out of my mind—”

“Is it so revolting?” Kylo Ren cuts her off, sounding and looking irascible from the topic. “Does it nauseate you so, Captain? The thought of marrying me?”

“It is when you trick me into the union!” She doesn’t even notice how her voice has gotten louder, how the people around them have hushed; how everyone’s eyes are on the two of them now. “I will not marry you, Lord Ren! I will not tolerate such dishonor!”

Her breathing is ragged; she hears her heart pounding in her ears. Her vision is blurring ever so slightly and she feels her body slowly giving up on her; her strength being suctioned out by her anger. If she looks around, she knows she would not be able to handle the pressure of their stares so instead she chooses to focus on Kylo Ren, whose unwavering gaze is what keeps her anchored in the present. His eyes have hardened and she is reminded of wolves, of monsters that prey and hunt in the night.

 _He loves you_ , she hears Jessika’s words echo in her thoughts – but he doesn’t, Rey is more than convinced. If he had loved her, he would not have deceived her. He would not have taken advantage of her. He doesn’t love her; he’s _desperate_ to _possess_ her. 

“Such dishonor?” he growls, provoked. “If you had heard yourself earlier, Captain, you could rest assured that you were nothing less than sincere in your words, in your acceptance of my second proposal. And you now threaten my integrity with accusations of duplicity!”

_He loves you._

“I challenge you to a duel, _Captain_ ,” he says her rank with such spite, “a duel for your hand. If you lose, you are mine. If you win, I leave you be. Do you accept?”

 _My own terms,_ she thinks. A duel is just. A duel would allow her to fight for herself. This is their way in Esstran, she is reminded,  _fighting for what they want_. Kylo Ren wants her. Kylo Ren is  prepared to bleed to have her. She would let him bleed for daring to deceive her. 

“I accept.”

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't show their conversation because this story (mostly) follows Rey's perspective on the events unfolding. She is unaware and so are we. It adds a little layer of frustration on our parts because we don't know if we should believe Kylo's claims. Anyway, next chapter is the duel and I'm pretty excited! Hype hype hype.
> 
> Also, I sort of lied. I could have been writing while recovering from surgery and I could have finished this chapter earlier, but I was playing Overwatch. I'm a terrible human being, I know, but I might be addicted. I play on a console, so if anyone wants to add me or play with me, I'm mimilovesmoo. :)
> 
> Lastly please rec me your favorite Reylo fics! I haven't read any stories since May and I need to read something to fuel my love for this ship. Please help me get some inspiration to write more for our otp! <3
> 
> (i've reached 500+ kudos!! thank you for all your support for this story!!!)


	9. Draw Your Swords, I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't deserve such patient readers. :'( I'm sorry it's taken forever to get this chapter up but there is a delicate plot point here that I had to deal with to keep the story progressing. Thank you for waiting!
> 
> Song Rec: [Draw Your Swords by Angus and Julia Stone](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ceup8anv94A). Very important piece of inspiration for this story. You won't regret listening to it.
> 
> Let me know what you think! I'm also on [tumblr](http://kaathiiee.tumblr.com) if you guys want to hit me up there. Enjoy this installment of The World In Its Dark Grace. :)

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There are objections. 

First, from Jessika – _You’re still sick, Rey!_

Then, Poe – _Are you insane? Do you know who he is? You’ve already lost, Rey._

Finally, from the queen herself – _Are you quite sure, Rey?_  

The Rebels had acted swiftly, diffusing the situation as soon as they noticed their captain’s position. They stepped into the center of the grand ballroom and continued the dancing, pulling in the foreign guests to distract them while their other captain escorted Rey away from the aftermath of Kylo Ren’s challenge and back to her quarters.

Now, she is sat on a settee while Jessika speaks to Sabé, asking for clarifications on the events that had passed in the day, Poe paces back and forth, stopping to open his mouth as if to speak but then closing them after a second and resuming his walking about; and with Leia beside her, holding her hand. 

“And when Lord Ren came by, he proposed to her?”

“I do not know for sure, my lady; I was at the other end of the room when they spoke. All I know is what the lady captain said.”

What had she said? Rey doesn’t even know herself. _If you had heard yourself earlier, Captain, you could rest assured that you were nothing less than sincere in your words, in your acceptance of my second proposal._ What had she said? What had she _done_?

Poe stops again, and this time he seems to have formulated his thoughts into something cohesive enough to say out loud.

“If you withdraw from the duel, it still counts as a loss by default.”

“I know that.”

“But there are no express rules forbidding proxies. Let _me_ fight for you, Rey.” He looks at her almost pleadingly, like he’s desperate with his concern for her. Poe has eyes that are unusually expressive, that easily give his feelings away. His intentions are all too clear to Rey: _Finn would have fought for you._ But if Finn was still here, really, there would have been no need for any of this at all. “You’re going up against the Master of the Knights of Ren. There’s a reason he’s their leader.”

“Do you doubt me, Poe?”

“I don’t doubt you could beat him _if_ you were at your best. You’re undefeated in all the sparring sessions of the Rebels.”

“But?”

“But you’re _sick_. Get it in your stubborn head, Rey! You have people to help you now. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Rey knows this, and it shames her that her thirst for vengeance has led to this. She had been resigned at the very beginning, before she had known for sure that Kylo Ren would be in Ileenium, that she would most likely be trapped in a loveless marriage. She had thought it as fitting, as penance; she had thought herself undeserving of happiness after her failure to be there with Finn in the battle where she— _they_ —lost him. But she definitely had not expected her curiosity, her want of knowing more of the mystery of the man that became Kylo Ren to lead to _this_.

“I’m not going to ask anyone to fight for me, Poe. It’s my decision.” She feels Leia’s grip on her hand tighten as she speaks. There is a semblance of warmth that resonates from the hold, and Rey is reminded of the ghost of a touch that was Kylo Ren’s. According to Sabé, he had also held her hand this afternoon, and the non-existent remembrance of the day only adds to her frustration, to her adamancy. “I already agreed. Whatever the outcome is, I’m ready for it.”

Poe is not at all pleased with her response, of how she declines his offer so unhesitatingly. He groans and throws his hands in the air, calling out for help from the other lady in the room. “Jess, tell Rey she’s still too sick to fight!”

Jessika, still in conversation with Sabé, shouts back from the other end of the room, “Already did, Captain!”

“Gah!”

Leia lets out a chuckle as she silently watches the interaction between the younger people in the room, bringing Rey’s attention to the queen who has remained mostly still so far. Sometimes, Rey doesn’t believe that it’s the queen herself who graces Rey with her presence. Coming from nothing and then being able to stand by the most powerful person in the land could be overwhelming. But she is _here_ , and Rey finally feels the culpability she’d been holding off.

“I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused, my queen,” she whispers, “I really had not intended for the commotion tonight.”

“I believe you,” Leia replies. “As I had said before, I’m worried for you. The marriage provisions respect both customs, and Threepio has informed me that dueling is actually a valid basis for courtship in Esstran. Ridiculous, that’s what it is.” She crinkles her nose, expressing her disapproval of the thought. Then, to Rey’s surprise, the queen _smiles_. “My husband proposed terribly, too, so I don’t think I’m the best person to judge Kylo Ren’s intentions. They have that in common.”

“You think he wants me?”

“Oh, dear, it’s more than obvious that he does. Sadly for him, his feelings aren’t reciprocated, are they?”

“I…” Rey starts, but pauses when she realizes she isn’t sure what it is she wants to say. It isn’t so much that his feelings aren’t reciprocated. She bears no love for Kylo Ren – nor for the other foreign nobles who came to their land, seeking partners to fulfill the marriage provision. If it was anyone else, feelings wouldn’t be much of a factor. Who he is to her aside, it is more of the fact of his deceit that she cannot accept. “My own feelings shouldn’t be put into consideration.”

Leia offers a consoling squeeze of her hand. “Sometimes, I feel guilty for all the expectations placed upon all of the Rebels. Including you.”

“We look up to _your_ strength, my queen.”

“I’m afraid I’m becoming quite frail with age, Rey. It does you no good to aspire to reach my standard."

The queen’s humor lightens Rey’s previous somber mood and she feels somehow better. The female captain is all too aware of how she’s already pushed herself so far this evening. Despite her vocalized denials, she knows she’s sick and that since she’s so adamant to fight Kylo Ren herself, she has to rest to stand a chance in their duel tomorrow. She is optimistic she can recover enough of her strength if she is able to get some sleep tonight.

There is a knock on the door that alerts them. Jessika and Sabé stop their conversation to allow Sabé to rush to the door, but Poe – with his heavy steps and long strides – gets to it first. When he pulls on the knob, on the other side is a young man dressed in a certain uniform signifying his status as a secretary of one of the nobles from Esstran. 

“Good evening, sir,” he greets Poe at the entrance. “Lord Ren sent me to ask the lady captain Rey when and where she would like to hold their duel.”

“You can run back and tell your lord that he can shove his sword right up his—" 

“Midday!” Rey interjects before Poe can continue with an expletive and gruesome details. She stands and walks over to the doorway to speak to the secretary directly. “At the Rebel estate. Someone will escort him to the dueling grounds upon his arrival.” 

“Thank you, Captain.” He bows to her first before Poe; when he rises, he sights Poe’s glower and flinches in place. Stuttering, he says, “I will now take my leave. My lord wishes you a pleasant evening.”

Rey is the one to close the door, not Poe, and when she turns back to face the small audience in her room, Leia is already standing up. Poe, having the decency to be courteous despite his own irritable mood, walks over to stand by the queen’s side to aid her.

“Perhaps it is best if we let Rey rest now. She has a long day ahead of her tomorrow and I doubt keeping her up late will help,” she says. “Poe, be a dear and escort me back to my chambers, will you?”

“Of course, your highness,” Poe answers with a curt nod. He gives one last wearisome look to Rey before following the queen out of the room.

Jessika and Sabé are left in the room with Rey and the lady doctor grunts as she heads to exit herself. “You’re a pain, you know that?”

“So you’ve told me many times,” Rey tries to laugh, but all that comes out is a strained sound that is too forced. “I’ll be well enough tomorrow, I swear. I’ve felt worse back in Jakku and recovered just as quickly.”

Unconvinced, Jessika frowns. “I ordered Sabé to give you something to help you sleep after you clean up, before you head to bed.”

“Thank you, Jess. For everything. I’m sorry I ruined your night.”

“Oh, it’s not ruined at all, Rey. I’m happy that I’m engaged to someone agreeable that I like. I just want the same for you. You deserve to be happy, too.”

She wants to say _no_. She wants to be able to confide in her friend that she doesn’t, not after her failures, not after her vengeful spirit – but to do so would be to ruin the sincerity of Jessika’s wishes, so Rey stays silent in the meanwhile. She needs to rest and keeping others less worrisome over her would help her get some sleep herself.

“Good night,” is all that comes through her lips before she pushes the door to a close.

 

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There are nights when her dreams are good. Rey doesn’t know if it’s her exhaustion or if it’s the medicine, but tonight is one of those nights where she doesn’t wake up before dawn with a pang, a deep-set pain in her chest.

She sees an island. As a child growing up in the desert, she hadn’t believed that so much water could surround a small body of land. _They exist, young one_ , one of the elders in her village would reaffirm, _I came from one myself._

It is the same picture she has stored in her mind, her imagination being fueled by the descriptive words in stories told to her. _Think of the sand, think of the rare rainstorms. Now imagine so much rain, all the water you could imagine, Rey, and watch it fill up the dunes_ – _the yellow sand beneath the blue water._

 _How does all that water feel?_ she would ask.

_Just like sand, except less rough, maybe. All that water still feels like sinking._

She has never been to an island – not yet, but maybe in the future, when she’s done with her service to the Rebels and could take a break for herself. Or perhaps if it aligns with her duty, if she’s called to go to the western end of the kingdom where there was such a thing as a _sea_ , speckled with islands near the coast. She looks forward to the day that she finally does.

 _All that water still feels like sinking_. She imagines all her worries, all the weight on her shoulders, and allows them to carry her down into the water; letting her fall deeper and deeper, until she’s no longer touching the water with her toes, but the sand underneath it all.

 

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The representative of the region of Takodana is a slight woman with large eyes and even larger glasses to frame her round face. Maz Kanata is older than the queen, but is somehow more youthful and jubilant, able to run about as though her bones aren’t ready to turn to dust just yet. One would think that because it had been her region that suffered the most in losses, both people and land, during the war, it would show on her person – but it isn’t the case. Maz has and always will be the most optimistic person one could ever have the chance of meeting.

So seeing her frowning face up close as Rey wakes up is a little more than alarming – and _weird_. She forgets that Maz also has the tendency to forget about the meaning of personal space.

“Good morning?” Rey yawns as she rises from her bed. “Representative Kanata, what are you doing here?”

“I sent the young girl away to get me tea and your breakfast. Sabé, was it? Her great-grandmother was a lovely woman. In any case, my dear, Leia wants to see you.”

“The queen?”

“It’s a few hours till midday and she wants to speak with you before you head to the Rebel estate to do your preparations,” she explains, her tone lowering. “The council isn’t too pleased with the necessity of a duel between you and Kylo Ren. Come on now, get dressed.”

As Maz pulls her out of the bed and pushes her to the closet, Rey feels a sense of bafflement at how fast paced the old representative is moving – especially with how sluggish Rey still feels from just waking. When they are standing in front of the armoire, Rey gathers enough wits to ask, “But what does she want to see me for?”

“My child, the queen is only as sane as she is because she is able to confide in those she trusts.”

Her words aren’t exactly the response Rey expects, but from past experiences and dealings with Maz, Rey should have known better than to anticipate something less cryptic. While she grabs a simple tunic and her most comfortable pants, there is a knock on her door and Sabé comes in, pushing a cart with food and a still steaming pot of tea.

“Good morning, lady captain,” Sabé greets. “Representative Kanata, I brought you your tea.”

“Yes, yes, thank you.” The older woman rushes over to the other end of the room, takes the pot and fills in her cup by herself, breathing in the vapors of the hot drink. As she settles herself in one seat, Sabé leaves the cart and goes over to offer her assistance to Rey – which the captain, as usual, politely declines.

“I can dress myself,” Rey huffs, pulling the tunic over her head and buckling a belt around her waist. “What time did she get here?”

“Half an hour ago, my lady captain.”

“Then the queen must have been waiting since then. I better go see what she wants.”

“But your breakfast, my lady—” Sabé is ready to contest; Rey cuts her off.

“I’ll have it after I meet the queen.”

Maz stands to stop Rey before she can exit. “Rey, go eat now. You might not have your appetite afterwards.”

There is a question burning through her now. _Why?_ What is it that the queen needs to speak to Rey about that could possibly make her lose her appetite?

“Anxiety, mostly,” Maz says out loud, as though reading Rey’s thoughts. “People are always nervous before fights. You should know this; you were there during the war. You need your energy, child. Eat.”

She makes a good point. Rey recalls her nerves and the auspicious aura floating around the campgrounds before an imminent faceoff. Conceding, she takes a piece of bread and bites right into it. As soon as she does, the apprehension registers and she feels the lack of flavor on her tongue. Not even the tea tastes like the herbal aroma it exhumes. She nibbles at the bread to force herself to take some food in, but it doesn’t help – at the minder of the duel, Rey is put at unease.

Maz just tips the cup of tea back and sips, smiling knowingly all the while.

 

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The guards outside the queen’s personal study let Rey through without question. Being the captain of the esteemed Rebels grants her that level of respect, even though she is much younger than the two men stationed to protect the queen.

Rey had never been in the study before, so she takes in all the details that she can. There are books that line the walls, dusted all over from being unused. It is suspicious that no one comes around to clean this room. There are boxes at the sides, crates which contents are unknown and unseen from those looking outside it. In one corner, is a portrait of the young queen – which Rey only recognizes as how the queen looked when she was younger due to a similar one being hung up in the hallway at the Rebel estate. There is another painting beside it depicting another couple. From a glance, it appears to have been drawn on their wedding day, as the woman is in a white dress with intricate beadings and patterns of lace.

“They say my mother’s beauty was unrivaled in the entire kingdom,” Leia’s voice echoes throughout the room and Rey turns to find the queen standing from behind the desk, hauling a small crate up and placing it on the tabletop. “There are more portraits of her hidden away, so there’s definite proof of how lovely she was, but going through her journals, I think she was more brilliant than she was beautiful. Her mind doesn’t get enough credit.”

Not knowing how to respond to that, Rey instead greets, “Good morning, my queen.”

“Oh, good morning, Rey. Are you feeling better now?”

“Yes, thank you. The apothecary dispenses wonders.”

To ask of her condition is not the reason Leia has called Rey to her private study. Before she can ask why she’s been sent here, Leia says, “There’s also a portrait of me and my husband when we were wed. Though, I don’t think I looked half as pretty as my mother.”

A beat. A breath. What is Rey supposed to say anyway?

“There’s also another one of my son.”

At the mention of the lost prince, Rey pauses. No one talks about the son of the queen who had been dead for years. _No one._ Her lack of heir is a glaring problem the queen’s council avoids having to bring up because they think they could simply cross the bridge once they got there. They speak of the loss of the queen’s husband, but never of the loss of her son.

Rey had only been a teenager when news of his apparent demise reached Jakku. The messengers hadn’t explained the circumstances of the tragedy. The people of the region were made to light candles and keep them ablaze for a week, but the winds and sands of the terrain didn’t allow for the light to be sustained for so long, and that was the end of the mourning in their region. Since her arrival on D’Qar, she hadn’t heard the topic be brought up. Not once.

Not until today.

_The queen is only as sane as she is because she is able to confide in those she trusts._

“There is something I have been keeping away from the world, but I can no longer keep it a secret – not from you.” Leia opens the box on her desk and fishes out a piece of parchment, the wax seal already broken. A letter. “My husband wrote me this at the early days of the war with Esstran. Go on. Read it, Rey." 

With a hesitating hand, the young captain takes the folded paper from the queen. An entirely different tension fills Rey now and she doesn’t know why it is she is scared and eager to learn the queen’s secret. On one hand, she feels humbled – the queen trusts her enough to confide in her; and on the other, the possible weight of whatever it is. A burden shared is a burden still.

The letter starts: _Your Worshipfulness,_

Already, Rey has to stop reading. There is something about the endearment, how it must mean something intimate between the queen and her late husband, that makes her feel like she’s unwelcome to go on, even with the queen’s urging. She raises her eyes from the letter and sees the queen’s back is now facing her, standing by the window overlooking the southern garden of the castle. Rey has no idea what is going through the queen’s mind as she brings up old memories perhaps better left unearthed. 

She continues anyway.

_I saw him. Leia, I saw our son…_

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Over a decade ago, the kingdom lost its prince. 

The sole heir to the throne had not liked the thought of ruling, didn’t see himself on the throne with the responsibility that came as his birthright. He wished to live much more simplistically, like his uncle Luke who was a scholar of the Temples of Tatooine. The prince valued erudition above all, believing it is the only true power there is to be truly had.

His parents – the queen Leia and the king-consort Han – could not deny their only son what he wanted. With the promise that Luke would look out after him and guide him, they allowed him to leave for the southern reaches of the kingdom. He stayed there for months at a time, coming back to the capital of D’Qar only when summoned by his mother when the need for his presence arose. Usually it was for meetings with foreign dignitaries, some others even pushing their own daughters forward in hopes they could marry into the royal family of Ileenium. But the prince didn’t fancy anyone and kept to himself, always tried to hide away and get some more reading done.

Evidenced by his words in their mutual correspondences, the prince liked his life in Tatooine much more than in D’Qar. He relished in the silence of the temples, in the abundance of texts and scrolls in one place. The sand would occasionally grate on his nerves and the heat of the landscape would make him wish he was elsewhere, but still, he enjoyed the region.

In the sixth year of his scholarly studies, they finally allowed the young prince to join in an expedition to claim scrolls from the kingdom of Esstran. There had been a letter from a noble house that said the head of the house wished to share with the scholars a piece of knowledge from his personal collection. The prince’s status as royalty had no weight in the temples – perhaps part of the reason he liked it there – and so he had to beg of his uncle to allow him to come along on the excursion. Luke had been wary of permitting him to go as Luke would not be able to accompany him, what with the older scholar being on a tight deadline to translate texts, but in the end his denial had been no match for the prince’s stubbornness.

A week later, a message arrived at the temples that the scholars they sent away had all perished in an attack by bandits plaguing a stretch of road heading to Esstran. There were a few bodies they recovered in the nearby river, but the others could not be found – including that of the prince’s.

Luke left Tatooine to travel to D’Qar, to personally tell his sister of the news, to apologize for his failure. After that, he disappeared without a trace.

Bereft, the queen and her husband mourned. The kingdom grieved.

And those in Jakku were made to light candles.

 

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“Hey!” Poe rushes to her at the front door of the estate upon her entrance. “You’re late! Where have you been?”

“Out,” is all Rey can answer as she straightens her clothes. She must appear a mess from riding, because Poe scrunches his nose as he scrutinizes her, but she doesn’t care, really. She’ll be more disheveled once she finishes the duel. “Come on. I’m late enough as is.”

Poe reaches to grab her by the wrist and stops her in her tracks. “Are you okay? What happened to you? _Rey_.” He puts his other hand on the back of her neck, forcing her to face him. “You’ve been crying.”

“I was. And now I’m going to fight.” She pulls away from Poe’s hold, and is thankful that he lets go and doesn’t make her struggle to be free. She resumes her walk to the field where the dueling is supposed to commence, but Poe isn’t quite at her pace. “Poe, _come on_.”

“Where were you?” he asks, quickening his own steps to catch up to her. “We were expecting you to come earlier to have some practice.”

“I don’t need it.”

“You were sick just yesterday.”

“And now I’m better. I can fight, Poe.”

“Are you sure?”

The proper answer is _no_ , she’s not – but it is not something she can admit to, not now, not right before she has to fight for herself with her own hand on the line. She cannot tell Poe of how she had forgotten about protocol and rushed out of the queen’s study without asking to be excused. She cannot tell Poe of how she had fled to her room and heaved what meager contents of her stomach held. She cannot tell Poe of how she had already been forewarned that she’d lose her appetite. She cannot tell Poe of the reason she wept, of the reason she doesn’t believe in herself any longer.

So instead of the truth of her feelings, she says, “Yes.”

 

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Upon their arrival at the dueling grounds, Rey notes that those from Esstran have already taken up a veranda with the view of the area for themselves. They are seated at the side, whispering to one another as Rey comes to view. She is quite aware that she is late and that it could be considered grounds for a default loss, but she knows Lord Ren would not allow that. His own pride would be wounded.

When Rey sees the queen, she has to look away – only to meet Kylo Ren’s eyes from across the field. Her heart lurches to her throat at the sight of him. The wind picks up and the scent carried by the breeze is not that of the lush sod of D’Qar, but that of death in the battlefields of Takodana. She hears it, then: the screams, the stampede, the clashing of metal. And there is Kylo Ren standing, a still target for her to run toward – void of his mask, hers for the taking. Her thoughts are the same as those she had during the war: _you killed my people, you killed my friends, you killed my husband._

But it’s those _eyes_ that make her realize she is in D’Qar, away from the war. How he looks at her with such emotion, in a way she does not expect from an enemy. There is a flicker of recognition in Rey’s head as she finally sees the resemblance; how his face is shaped, which parts he takes from his parents, how all these details come together.

And it hurts all over again.

“You know the rules.” Hux stands in the middle, surprising everyone with how he is capable of a sonorous sound. “The duel goes on until submission.”

The rules are standard for duels in Esstran, except for the special clause where no blood should be shed. No direct strikes to the head or groin. No area boundaries. No replacements of weapons if dented or cracked – if they break, find a way to continue. The duel goes on until submission, until someone explicitly asks for the fight to end.

“If you are both ready.” The red-haired noble looks to the both of them for confirmation. A nod from Kylo Ren and another from her is all he needs. “Draw your swords.”

They are handed their weapons of choice. If it is Kylo Ren’s intention to intimidate her with the breadth of his sword, he succeeds. He holds the weighted wood with one hand in a display of strength, but she has her agility to help her. She can win this. She knows she can.

But she no longer has the heart to.

 

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Half an hour into the fight, Rey is exhausted. Kylo Ren had rushed at her at the very beginning of the match, attempting a swift end to the duel with all the force he can muster – but Rey is quick on her feet, is used to shifting around to gain footing and to catch herself every time she is close to slipping. Once he is finished with his initial barrage, Rey gains some ground and starts switching to the offensive, the two wooden swords slamming against each other in a fury of hits. 

He is not a better fighter than her. His movements are much more erratic, less fluid. It is the workings of his body against him, his own size making it difficult to move about. However, he compensates; each action – each swing, each step – has a purpose. He doesn’t move unless he thinks there is something to gain. He allows his strength to carry him.

She pushes, exerting enough force for him to skid back from her shove. The crowd is silent in anticipation, but Rey is focused on the fight that the audience doesn’t register. They are all blurred faces and muffled sounds in the background. She has to remain attentive, lest Kylo Ren catches her off guard with a move that could make it impossible for her to recover. There is only the fight: their synchronized motions, their laborious breathing, their bodies covered in sweat and grime.

“Are you tired, my lord?” she wheezes out, her lungs heaving. “Say the word, and this can be over with.”

“Not at all, captain,” he refutes, twisting about his wrist as he readjusts his hold on his sword. He smirks, confident. “We’re not done yet.”

Kylo Ren charges at her with renewed energy while she is still recovering. As he slams into her, her weapon is pushed away to the ground, a good ten feet away. She has to run, she cannot fight him with her bare hands. She dives – and scrapes her knee, most likely; but the pain is swept back by the urgency of the situation, of her heart pounding and her mind screaming to _get your sword, fight back, don’t let him win._ She takes the handle in her hands and swings it above her head to deflect a hit just in time. Her arms are burning as he continues to bear all his strength on her, but she manages to kick at his shins and he backs up, hissing in pain while she gets on her feet once more.

She is so tired. Weak from her illness the day before, from the lack of food intake this morning, from the truth of Kylo Ren’s identity being bared to her. She is so tired, but she has to fight. She has to keep on pushing.

Rey allows herself a deep breath to center herself, closing her eyes for a second before storming forward with a flurry of attacks. Her sword is much lighter than his, allowing her the advantage of quick movements, attacking with an unforeseen speed. She lands almost every strike, turning her lithe body to adjust to a new formation so Kylo Ren doesn’t have time to compensate. There is a grace in her fury that cannot be matched, cannot be beat; all it takes is one more hit for Kylo Ren to fall down on his knees.

She kicks his weapon to the side and points the end of her own sword to the base of his neck, keeping the wood close to his skin.

“Yield,” she orders, digging her surprisingly still whole sword deeper to his flesh.

“Careful now, captain.” His breathing is ragged and he is clutching at his side. He looks up to her and there is an off-putting smile on his face that she wants to clean off with a good smack with the sword. She tries to remind herself to not lose focus, to not give into the anger anymore, but he continues to stoke the flames. “Your queen might think you still want to kill me.”

His last statement is enough to distract her. She looks into the crowd and sees Queen Leia has stood up from the seat provided for her to watch, and on her face is a tortured expression. It pains her to watch her stranger of a son fight someone she has grown to care for like her own daughter. That second of oversight is all Kylo Ren needs to take away her weapon and pummel her down to the ground, her face meeting the dirt and her hands being filled with grit. Still, she has Leia in her line of sight and all Rey can think is how the queen is distressed and how no one else can sense this, how no one else knows of the pain she carries.

She had been selfish the entire time, putting her own want for vengeance ahead of the interests of the kingdom – but perhaps, just this once, she can make it up to someone who has given her so much, who deserves better. Rey does not have the heart to let Leia lose any more of her son than she already has.

"Yield," he says, voice soft enough to be a whisper, a plea.

Her eyes flutter to a close. No longer straining against the hold on her, her body relaxes into the ground and she feels the cool mud on her skin. A few heartbeats later, the scrapes, the wounds and the bruises register. They all come together to make her body into something all too tender, no longer able to sustain her pretense.

_It feels like sinking._

“I yield.”

 

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	10. Memory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I was looking through my original notes for this story and would you believe that this was supposed to be a one-shot? I'm not kidding. It's just weird to think about it since we're over 50k words at this point.
> 
> Songs for this chapter: I Want to Love You by Lenachka and Interlude by London Grammar. The latter song can be found in my writing mix for this story [here](http://8tracks.com/kaathiiee/the-world-in-its-dark-grace). I think _Interlude_ is _the_ song. _The_ song, guys. You'll get it once you read this chapter.

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“ _I yield_.”

There is a hush that sweeps over the estate as Rey utters the words, a moment where the gravity doubles and grounds everyone to where they stand – from afar, observing the two figures in the middle of the field.

Once Kylo Ren’s weight is off her, Rey rolls over. The brightness of the sky draws her focus, and she no longer feels like she is sinking. For a moment, she imagines herself up with the clouds, floating away. She feels the lightness of it – though in actuality she is very much stuck on the earth. She stays lying supine for a minute or two, taking in deep breaths to center herself and remind herself of where – and who – she is. She is not a little girl with every liberty to dally around, but a high-ranking officer of the Rebels, a trusted confidante of the queen, a volunteer for the selection pool – and now, a bride to be.

“Captain,” he says, “they’re waiting for you.”

She sees them with eyes trained to scope and evaluate a situation with one glance. There is neither a celebration nor cause for panic. The duel had played out exactly the way everyone had expected: with someone winning and the other losing. Now, they’re both expected to make their way back to the stands where the rest of the crowd are, to present themselves before the queen and to make some show of their acceptance of the outcome of their fight.

It’s not just them waiting. There is an air of impatience about Kylo Ren. Rey notices the slightest of his habits – how he twitches nervously, looking back and forth between her and the other nobles; how his feet taps on the ground. She shouldn’t be noticing them, but she does. It’s how she knows that he wants to be anywhere else but where they are. He is uncomfortable being watched, being anticipated on. She knows it’s shallow, but watching him squirm counts as a little victory to Rey.

“ _Ben_ ,” she calls out to him. It’s an honest mistake, a thought she so recklessly threw out of her mouth. To her, it’s his name – and it isn’t. Either way, he doesn’t correct her. “Help me up?”

She simply expects him to offer his hand, to pull her up so she can rise back up on her feet. But he doesn’t do that. He kneels, lowers himself and puts one arm beneath her legs and another supporting her back and lifts her off the ground. The motion is unhurried and he carries her with strength she’s surprised he still possesses after their earlier exertion. There is also warmth from him and Rey finds herself leaning into his body, not at all fighting him. Not anymore.

“Are you expecting an apology?” he asks her.

“From you? No.” She means to scoff, though it sounds more like a wheeze. Even her lungs are straining. “You won. There is nothing to apologize for.”

“Putting you in this position, for one.”

There is the vindictive side of her that wants to blame him, that wants to call him out and say Yes, you should be sorry; but she also knows fully well that she is where she is because of her own choices. She is her own responsibility, and to shift the blame on him would be unfair.

“I’m here because I wanted to be,” she says in response, a soft whisper. “I accepted your challenge, didn’t I? And I lost, so now I’m – I’m yours.”

“This victory feels rather hollow when you still don’t believe me.”

She doesn’t believe his claim that she had honestly accepted his second proposal. She doesn’t even believe that it’s his second attempt. The awkward memories of the first one had been pushed away to the recesses of her mind somehow, and to bring them back is to bring about a headache along with them. He had looked at her differently then, not knowing anything about her but the fact that she saved him. He had knelt before her and insisted his life is in her hands – and she had wanted that, once, more than anything else, but not in the way he offered. Back in the hallway of the castle, his proposal had been so formal, almost like a transaction of sorts. It’s funny to think that so much has changed in little more than a fortnight.

How he looks at her, too, is different. There is sadness in his eyes, a look she knows all too well from years of being lonely herself. Ever since they established some sort of understanding between them from that commonality, he has looked at her like the earth would suddenly crack between them and separate them, like he’s afraid to lose her – at least in private, he does. And now, she almost feels embarrassed that there are people watching him watch her.

 _I could believe you_ , she admits to herself. She could if she knows what was spoken between them yesterday – but with still no recollection of their conversation, she is still more than wary. Despite that, she does want to be able to put her faith in him; even if only for the reason that she wants to get it all over with. Or perhaps so she could pretend that she feels no guilt for keeping the truth of who he is from him.

“I’m so tired,” she stops herself before she says _Finn_ ’s name out loud. There is still an ache at the thought of him, but it is more muted now. Rey doesn’t want to forget him, not ever, but she has to let him go if she wants to survive Kylo Ren. She cannot be holding on to the memory of a dead man while married –or engaged to be married – to someone else. It would do no good to anyone.

“Close your eyes,” he instructs her. She follows, being lulled by the smooth rumble of his voice, the slowing down of his heartbeats. “Just imagine the ocean, that island you always dream of.”

If she isn’t as worn out as she is, she would argue with him: _I never told you that._ Or maybe she had told him in the conversation that eludes her memories. She doesn’t know. All she knows for sure is the weight of her bones upon his hands and the solidness of his body against hers. The closer they come to the crowd, the louder the noise of their chatter gets. Rey filters them out, focuses on the image Kylo Ren has projected to her head: the ocean, that island – and before anyone else can get to her, she has already fallen asleep.

 

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Rey’s room in the Rebel estate is much more modest compared to Poe’s. The other captain has personal belongings from a life before he became part of the Rebels, while Rey brought nothing with her when she left Jakku. She has a small dresser filled with the simplest of garments, a shelf of potted plants she likes tending to, and finally a box full of paints and other instruments for her art. The Rebels are encouraged to be skilled in an art form in one way or another, and she had claimed hers was in illustrating and painting, though she hasn’t had the chance to practice lately.

When she opens her eyes, the canvas on the easel is the first thing she sees. It is blank, untouched for months. She hadn’t gone near it since the end of war, hadn’t thought of herself still capable of crafting anything beautiful after the horrible things she’d done with her own hands.

She clenches her fists and feels the bruises from a too-hard grip on her sword, even if it had just been a practice one. It’s a reminder of her loss, but Rey knows better now. She knows the futility of holding on. As a child in the desert, she learned that sand would slip out from your hands the tighter you keep a grip on it. As an adult, she’s admittedly still familiarizing herself with letting go; still trying to navigate the aftermath of the war, of her personal decisions that has led to where she is now.

Rey takes in a deep, shuddering breath as she rises out of her bed. She feels the lag of her body, the laziness set in her bones after sleeping for who knows how long. How sluggish she moves as she trudges her way to the door. The soreness of her muscles, the ache of her bruises – they all add to her discomfort. Unlike during her stay in the castle, there is nobody to watch over her constantly or to attend to her needs. The Rebels are all self-sufficient. If Rey wants food, she’ll have to walk all the way down to the kitchens and either prepare something for herself or ask for whatever leftovers are there. Just the thought of having to go down with how much her body hurts is dreadful, but the rumble of her stomach isn’t going to go away if she doesn’t act on it.

So she goes. Her hand is already on the handle of the door when it is pulled away from her grasp and someone else comes to view: another Rebel, a lanky man named Burillo.

“Captain!” he cries out in surprise. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you to be up.”

“What time is it?” Rey asks with an accompanying yawn. “And you’re not allowed to go up to this floor with your rank, are you?”

“No, but I was assigned to check up on you, Captain.”

“To check up on me? Why? How long have I been asleep?”

“It’s been three days since your duel, Captain. Also, to answer your question – it’s midday, now.”

“ _Three_?” Rey gasps. No wonder her body feels like the way it does. And she no longer questions why she’s so hungry.

“We’ve kept a meal warm for you for when you woke up,” Burillo adds, “I can bring it up to you in your quarters if you think you still need your rest.”

She actually considers it. The offer for her to just stay put in bed is tempting enough, especially when she feels herself weak, incapacitated. But she’s had enough rest: three whole days of it. She should get up and stretch, take a walk, take a breather; do something to get her blood running.

“No, you don’t have to. I’ll go down to the mess hall to eat there,” she tells him, but when she takes a step forward she wobbles, almost falling over and planting her face on the floor if it had not been for Burillo catching her by her arms. She moves to right herself and mumbles a thank you before she tries to move again, slower and surer in her strides this time.

Burillo awkwardly totters after her. “Are you, um, if it’s alright to ask, that is – are you okay, Captain?”

  
It’s comforting to know that there are people who care for her. It really is. She’s forgotten that the Rebels is supposed to be her family now; and now that she’s done with her duty as a volunteer for the meanwhile, Rey can go back to her responsibility as their captain.

“I am.” She thinks of the box with her pigments inside her room, of how Finn had been the one to give them to her as a welcoming gift into the Rebels. She imagines picking it up once more, actually having the initiative to try something with it. She dreams of Finn being proud of her once she’s finished a piece, and she knows – “I’ll be alright.”

 

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It takes her a while, but Rey finds a way to manage – like she always does. Once she reaches the common area where everyone is eating their midday meals, the Rebels make way for her until she reaches her reserved seat at one end of the room. Someone rushes to bring a plate already stacked with food and place it in front of her. The Rebels are silent in their anticipation and Rey feels overly conscious of herself as she had not expected this sort of reception.

“What?” she growls, trying to reestablish her authority. She’s younger than the majority of the Rebels, but she knows she has their respect. “What are you all looking at me for?”

Then, another thing she doesn’t expect: _laughter_ – raucous and echoing in the dining hall. Rey eases up at the sound, finds herself relaxing; her earlier nerves quelled in the current ebullient air. Congratulations are being passed to her with pats on her shoulder and hands ruffling her hair; those that are closer to her give her quick hugs. Never mind that she is above them all in rank; or that she had gone down picturing herself having a simple and peaceful meal.

“Oh, lighten up, Captain! You’re getting married!” one voice quips from the back, to which another replies with, “This calls for a celebration! Let’s bring out some casks!”

And before Rey can say anything else, there are already Rebels running in with some of the estate’s stores of ale and wine. Their attention is off her as soon as the filled cups are being passed around and Rey takes that opportunity to do what she came down for: eat. She feels herself vicariously energized by the impromptu party and she’s glad for this, for the reminder that the Rebels is a family.

“Don’t mind them,” Nien Nunb, one of the retired Rebels who stays on to help train the next batch of applicants, says as he comes up to take the seat beside her. “Really, they’re just looking for an excuse to drink, but they’re glad you’re awake now. We all are.”

“Thank you,” Rey says in turn, “I don’t know why, but they’re more excited about my engagement than I am.”

“Maybe because we were all under the impression that you didn’t want to accept Kylo Ren until he proved himself worthy.”

“Is that so?”

“It helps that everyone thinks the man’s in love with you,” Nien tells her with a low chuckle. “He carried you all the way to your room, ignoring his secretaries that were chasing after him and asking him to allow them to at least clean his boots first before he went inside. Now that was something I haven’t seen before.”

She smiles uneasily as she recalls Jessika’s words. _He’s in love with you._ How is it that Kylo Ren seems to have convinced everyone else in Ileenium but her?

“It’s a wonder they’re all okay with him. He was our enemy.”

“Aren’t you okay with him?” Nien asks, eyeing her.

“I am,” Rey answers – and it’s the truth. She _is_ okay with him.

“Here’s one for you, Captain!” Niv Lek, a bearded man charged with armory logistics, takes a seat at Rey’s table and hands Rey her own cup of ale. “So if you get married to that noble, do you get to your rank of captain? Or are you officially a lady?”

“It’s only a marriage in name,” Rey explains, “I get to keep my rank and everything. I just have to go to Esstran for a month each year, and I get to live my life separately for the rest.”

“And he comes to Ileenium for a month, too?”

“That’s what the provisions require, so yes.”

“He’s a lord and has his own estate, right? I wonder how that’s like,” Yolo Ziff enters the conversation, attempting to pick at Rey’s food until she swats his hand away. “Where will he stay when he’s here, then, Captain? Here at the estate or at the queen’s castle?”

Niv is the first one to offer a response, with a suggestive wink. “He’s got to stay with the captain, so he’ll come here and share her room. Right, Captain?”

They all look to Rey. She’s already given it some thought, having read through the provisions at the beginning. It was simply a formal arrangement, and she planned to offer whomever she married a spare room at the topmost floor so they would have their own personal space to work in. She hadn’t considered sharing her own private quarters, even if it is surely spacious enough.

“I’ll go with whatever arrangement the queen wants,” Rey answers, though in her head she can’t get the image of sleeping next to Kylo Ren out. It isn’t as if she’s adverse to the idea of it, but still the thought of it stirs a feeling of anxiety in her. “I don’t have to think about that now, at least not until we’re married. We have months to figure it out till then. It could even be a year or so before we can plan a ceremony.”

“That’s rather sad, isn’t it?” Nien interjects, “I think you’re brave for volunteering, Rey. We want you to be happy. After all you did for the Rebels and the kingdom during the war, you deserve it.”

Niv, taking Nien’s words as some cue, stands on his stool and raises his glass. “To the captain’s engagement!”

Everyone pauses in their respective conversations to raise their own cups as well. “To the captain’s engagement!”

While the merriment over their midday meal continues, there is a quiet that shrouds Rey’s table. The three younger men take their leave to find others to converse with. Only Nien and Rey are left at the table and somehow Rey knows that Nien is thinking about Finn, too. He had been one of the Rebels Finn looked up to the most and openly confided to. If there was someone Finn had told about his feelings for Rey before anyone else, it would have been Nien.

“I did this for him,” Rey says, low enough so only Nien could hear. He offers her a small smile in turn, nodding understandingly before giving her shoulder a light squeeze and leaving, too.

 

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After finishing three – _three!_ – whole plates of food, Rey announces that the revelry is over and everyone has to resume work. No one argues with the captain in that respect; they are all just glad of the break and excuse to bring out some drinks. They file out and return to their previous tasks, leaving Rey and the Rebels posted for kitchen duty in the hall.

It’s there, getting a moment of silence to get her thoughts together, does she finally remember to ask: “Where’s Poe?”

“Captain Dameron’s out with the other lieutenants, Captain,” someone answers her, “they’re at the castle seeing off the queen’s guests from Esstran.”

“That’s _today_?” Rey screeches, alarmed at the news. She racks her head for a remembrance of what day it’s supposed to be. Three days – she’s been asleep for that long, and now the nobles are going back home. The event flew past her head earlier, having no mind to properly functioning without food in her stomach. Rey groans and runs to the door. “Have my horse prepared! I’ll be leaving in a few minutes!”

She sprints all the way to her room, surprising herself with the sudden improvement in her body just after eating; but she doesn’t dwell on that thought. All the volunteers who had gotten paired with a noble are supposed to be there to see the nobles off. Poe probably ordered the other Rebels to not try waking her until she came to by herself. She appreciates his concern, but she doesn’t like it when it interferes with what is supposed to be her duty.

Rey takes a brush and runs it through her hair a few times, ridding the tangles at the end of her tresses. She ties her hair up and haphazardly throws her sleeping garments off, simply tossing it to the side. She’ll put it in the proper laundry basket later. She’s in the middle of buttoning on her blouse when there’s a knock on her door; probably a Rebel informing her that her horse is already waiting for her at the driveway.

“Just a minute!” she shouts, sitting on the bed and pulling her boots up. They’re thoroughly cleaned and newly polished and she makes a mental note to thank whoever was kind enough to wash her shoes for her.

She gets up and rushes to get the door, one hand still at the end of her boot and the other pulling on the handle of the door. “Yes, I’m here, I’m ready, come on—”

And stops when she sees Kylo Ren in front of her.

“Going somewhere?”

 

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She brings him to one of the gazebos in the garden. It’s her favorite place in the entire estate, surrounded by the sight of colorful blooms that make her feel at ease. Rey can usually count on the area being clear and private enough, but the Rebels are being especially difficult. She sights a few of them trying to peep, but with the captain’s verbal threat of extra patrol shifts and more difficult exercises during training for anyone else she sees, they are quick to disperse.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Kylo Ren says. He’s standing in front of her, ramrod straight, posture ever impeccable. A breeze passes that pulls at the slight curls of his long hair, and perhaps that is the only thing that makes him register as real to Rey.

“Oh? Right.” Rey tries to act cool, but she’s nervous in actuality. She hadn’t expected his appearance at the estate at all. “I was going to you. I mean, to the castle, to see you and the other nobles off.”

“You were?”

“Yes, as was required of me and the other volunteers. Jess was there, wasn’t she?”

Ren answers with a curt nod. “I had hoped you would be well enough to attend.”

“I just woke up a few hours ago and forgot about it,” she offers her excuse, albeit sheepishly. “I suppose you could extend my farewells to the other lords and ladies instead.”

He looks away then, turning his face to the side and she is forced to look at his profile instead. His eyes keep darting; keep trying to search for something else to lock on to that isn’t her. It’s almost endearing, his apparent embarrassment, that Rey has to laugh at him for it. At the sound of her chortling, Ren refocuses on her and his pallor accentuates the blush of his cheeks.

“Stop that,” he tells her, caustic. “You’re not making this any easier.”

“I’m sorry if I’m being difficult,” Rey bites back, her tone matching his sharpness, “but you chose me, and you were so convinced you wanted me as your wife – this is what you have to deal with.”

“I don’t wish to handle your mocking right now.”

“Then what do you want, my lord?”

He opens his mouth to say something, but he just as quickly closes it. He points a finger at her accusingly and she is a second away from being offended at the gesture, but he withdraws and puts his hand back to his side, clenching his fist to a close. He turns on his heel and paces the small area of the gazebo – though it only takes him three steps to cover the distance of it with how big his strides are. He goes around four times before facing her again, having collected enough nerve to speak once more.

“If it’s not too much to ask,” he starts, “I’d like to ask you for a memory.”

“A memory?” she asks, confused about his peculiar request. It is the first time she’s heard anyone ask for such from her – from anyone.

“It will be weeks, months before we see each other again,” he explains, his fingers fidgeting and scrabbling for the cloth of his coat. It bothers Rey so much that she’s tempted to just reach out and hold his hand to make him stop fussing – a quirk she adopted from Finn. “I want my last memory of this place in a long while to be a happy one.”

“It wasn’t good enough that you last saw me sleeping?” she tries to joke back because she doesn’t understand what it is he really means. “Ren—”

“Close your eyes.”

“What?”

“Can you just do it? _Please,_ ” he bothers to add, though it doesn’t sound like he means to be polite. He’s looking away again, mollified. “We’re pressed for time as is. If I stay any longer, Hux will come out here and drag me back to my carriage so we can all get going.”

“I don’t imagine Lord Hux has the physical strength to do that.”

“He doesn’t need it. He can simply talk on and on until I’m irate enough to listen to him.”

At that, Rey can’t help but snort. She acquiesces to his request and shuts her eyes. The world goes dark and she relies on the rest of her senses to tell her what is happening around her with Kylo Ren. She hears the wind pushing at the leaves of the shrubbery around them, the birds chirping in the distance; and the heavy step he takes towards her, closing the distance between them. She feels the heat of the back of his hand on the side of her neck, his knuckles brushing over her flesh. Her heartbeats hasten and her breath hitches. _What is he doing?_ Still, she keeps her eyes closed, afraid of what she’ll see – what she’ll feel – if she opens them. It’s a safety precaution; knowing herself, she will most likely start feeling how Kylo Ren looks. And she knows how dangerous that is, the way he looks at her…

It is an unconscious act – or so she tries to convince herself – when she licks her lips. _Is he going to kiss her?_ Was that what he had meant, when he said he wanted a memory?

Before she could even contemplate on the thought, she hears him stepping back, feels his hand moving away; and in place of the warmth of his skin is something cool between her collarbones. She opens her eyes then and looks down to see he’s placed a pendant around her neck, the stone yellow and smoothed over.

“The merchant I bought it from called it an Adegan crystal,” he says, watching her, waiting for a reaction. “I saw it and thought of you.”

There’s a sense of relief that washes over her. She doesn’t know what she would have done if he had kissed her – but that thought is no longer here nor there. What she has on her now is the beautiful necklace with the small crystal that he had so thoughtfully picked out for her. She’s grateful, she really is; she only has a few personal possessions and she doesn’t even want to think about how much this piece of jewelry costs. She should say thank you, she should express her gratitude so that he can leave, but what comes out of her mouth instead is: “I hate this color.”

And suddenly he’s slack-mouthed, eyes shifting. He is simultaneously abashed and appalled by her crudeness. And she doesn’t know how to apologize, doesn’t know what to say to make this better. He had wanted a memory, he had probably just wanted to see her happy with his gift; and instead she had made herself appear an ungrateful ass.

She groans at how terrible she’s been and acts completely on impulse. She pushes herself forward to wrap her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her level as she places her lips over his. He is quick to get over the initial shock and responds to her ministrations, catching her mouth with his and putting his hands on her waist to pull her closer. Her hands climb up to grasp at his hair, feeling how soft his dark curls are; his hands stay over her hips, digging into her flesh, as though releasing her is the last thing he wanted to do. It couldn’t have been more than a minute, but Rey is still breathless by the time they part. They share the same look of incredulity on their faces, neither of them comprehending what just happened between them.

“I,” Rey says, voice quavering, “I meant to say thank you.”

He bursts into laughter – it sounds so genuine, so unadulterated. It’s contagious, that’s what it is, and as she joins in, Rey is reminded of who he is – not the feared master of the Knights of Ren, but the lost prince of Ileenium. He may have lost those memories of that childhood, but he is still the boy who knew love underneath the intimidating façade of this grown man.

“And thank you for that,” he says, taking her hand and planting his lips over her knuckles. She swears his mouth stays on her skin longer than what is considered appropriate. “We’ll see each other again. Until then, my lady captain, I swear I will dream of you.”

He walks away afterwards, the tail of his coat trailing behind him. He had already told her that he was pressed for time, so she understands why she’s been left behind in the gazebo. What she doesn’t understand is why she still feels a tingling sensation over the areas where his lips had been – and why she is wishing he would turn around and come kiss her once more.

 

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The summons arrives the next day. Rey had just come back to the Rebel estate after an early morning patrolling shift when the messenger tells her that the queen is calling for her. She rides directly to the castle, opting to break her fast there instead, as she’s sure they will be more than willing to oblige her with some pastries and tea.

She sees the castle staff going around carrying used linens from the guest rooms; others bringing in cloths to cover the unused furniture with. They’re not here anymore. Even Rey is finding it difficult to believe that it had only been a month ago when she first set out to exact revenge – and now she’s daydreaming of kissing the same man she once swore to kill with her own hands.

 _Get a grip of yourself,_ she berates herself internally as she passes through another corridor to get to where the queen’s supposed to meet her. _You’re not in love with him._

Should she tell the queen about what happened? Does Leia care about who her son kisses anyway? She pushes those thoughts out of her head as she pushes the doors to open. Leia is there, waiting for her – just as the messenger said she would be.

“Rey,” the monarch greets, “thank you for coming.”

It’s not like Rey had a choice to begin with; the queen’s word is law. Rey may have a few opportunities to rebel, but she cannot go against a direct order.

“Is there something the matter, my queen?”

“I have a special assignment for you,” she answers, straight to the point. “But first I have to ask how you’re holding up.”

Rey considers telling her then of what happened, of what she’s feeling when she thinks of Kylo Ren now. It’s silly how one kiss has suddenly turned her into some fool. _You’re not in love with him!_

“I’m better now, my queen. Thank you for asking.”

“Really now?” Leia has to ask again, knowing Rey’s tendency to lie about her personal condition. “You do look much better now, so I’ll take your word for it – this time.”

One signal from the queen is all it takes and the guards exit the room. Rey starts theorizing what the queen wants to talk about if it requires confidentiality. Perhaps she is going to ask about her son, about what Rey knows of what happened to him; but she doesn’t.

“I trust you with this mission, Rey,” Leia starts, somber. “No one else knows of what I’m asking of you and you will tell no one. This assignment is yours and yours alone. Not even Poe will know of what you will be doing, do you understand?”

The solemnness of her voice scares Rey – but at the same time, she’s inspired by it. She feels special, being trusted by the queen with a quest so important that it calls for discreteness. Not even Poe, for all his unwavering and unyielding loyalty to the queen and the kingdom, was chosen.

Rey lowers herself until she is kneeling, humbled. “Whatever it is, my queen, I will do it to the best of my ability. I swear this as a Rebel.”

“Good, because I expect nothing but your best, Rey,” Leia says, “when your mission is to find my brother.”

Rey looks up, staring at the queen. Had she heard the queen right?

“I need you to find Luke Skywalker.”

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hides before you can throw tomatoes at me for not updating in a while* I swear I have legitimate reasons for the late update (again)! I've been spending the last two weeks finishing a full paper for a conference! If my abstract gets selected, I get to present in two international conferences and one local. And I'll be published in a journal! That is, if my abstract gets selected. So let's all hope that it does! (Or it doesn't, so I can focus on writing more chapters. :P)
> 
> Comments? Clarifications? Please don't hesitate to ask me! Again, I'm on [tumblr](http://kaathiiee.tumblr.com) if you guys want to hit me up there. I see this story being recommended by others, so thank you very much for sharing my story! :)


	11. The World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been over a month, and I'm sorry! I've been so so so terribly busy. But good news to everyone who sent their well wishes: my abstract got accepted! I'll be heading back to Japan in December if I can find some way to fund myself. (I'm just a poor college student. RIP my student debt.) If you guys have ideas on how I can go about that, please please send me some help as I am clueless. :D

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She is laughing. In this precious memory, she is unabashed as she cackles, clutching at her stomach. She’s already winded and losing her breath, but still she goes on and on and on, as though she has just heard perhaps the funniest joke in the world.

 _Stop it!_ A voice interjects, embarrassment seeping through his tone. _Stop, it’s not even that funny, Rey._

 _But_ you _—_

 _Yes, yes,_ me _. Now drop it._

_—you had a crush on Captain Dameron!_

The flush across Finn’s cheeks is more visible now as she bursts into another round of laughter. He tries to cover his face with his hands, but it does little to hide his mortification.

 _I knew I shouldn’t have told you!_ He groans as he buries his face into his hands. Then, divisively, he looks back up and glares at her. _See if I trust you with anything ever again!_  

He’s walking away now, moving to exit the small gazebo they’re occupying in the garden of the Rebel estate. Rey knows he isn’t really going to leave her to walk back alone, but still she catches up to him and grabs him by the arm to pull him back inside. _Aw, Finn, come on, it_ is _funny! It’s adorable._  

 _The key word there is_ had _, okay? I don’t like him in that way anymore._

 _But you used to._ Rey sticks her tongue out at him. _He was the one who trained you, wasn’t he?_

 _What’s that got to do with anything?_ He asks in turn, scrunching his face. _I’m training you_ , _but you don’t have a crush on me, do you?_

 _No! No, I don’t. I’m here to learn, Finn,_ she answers, rubbing the back of her neck. _There’s a war. I’m here to help our kingdom and hopefully be able to kick some Esstran ass in the near future. I don’t think I should have the time for something so shallow as crushes when people are dying at our borders._

It’s the look on his face – that mix of humiliation and dejection – that makes Rey continue speaking even though she should have ended it there, though she doesn’t mean to say anything more.

 _But who knows, really? If I like someone, I guess I like them,_ she says with a nonchalant shrug. Jokingly, she adds, _Don’t worry, Finn, I’m not going to count you out._

Then, he takes her hand; he’s touchy and affectionate that way. He does that to everyone, she had learned it a few days into living in the Rebel estate. She remembers that she had punched him – or at least tried to, if he hadn’t caught it with his honed reflexes from training – when he first tried to hold her hand. Back then, she hadn’t known what it meant to open up more space around her for others. Now, she welcomes how his hand cradles hers, all warm and gentle.

 _Let’s head back inside?_ he asks her, a big goofy grin on his face that she wants to slap off his face because of how silly he looks. He’s supposed to be her superior, and she can’t take him as seriously as she should when he smiles like that.

She squeezes his hand back in response, willingly tangling her fingers with his and matching his beam. It doesn’t mean anything to Rey – at least not in the same way that Finn sees the act. And Rey should know that this is _the_ moment: the start of Finn holding out for her, hoping for her feelings to be the same as his one day.

If she had said something else back then, if she could only change the past somehow…

 

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Presently standing at the same spot, Rey is rewriting her memories. She used to think of Finn whenever she came to this gazebo. Now, she’s placing one hand on her lips, feeling the ghost of Kylo Ren’s touch on her face; while the other clutches the stone of her pendant. Already, she misses him, and the thought is equal parts dreadful and shameful.

She’s replaying his words in her head: _It will be weeks, months before we see each other again._ They would have been apart far longer than they have been together by the time he returns to Ileenium for the first wedding – that of Lord Hux with the daughter of the representative of Alderaan, the young Lady Connix.

It’s been three days since their party left for their homes in Esstran. They should have passed the checkpoint in Takodana, and are probably heading up the mountains of their land. By the time he arrives in his home in the city of Kaas, Rey would be far away from D’Qar, on route to Naboo to meet up with one of Threepio’s intelligencers who supposedly knows where Luke Skywalker could be found.

It’s been three days since he kissed her – or more correctly, she kissed him. In her daze in the days that followed, she hasn’t really had the opportunity to think about what she’s done, what it’s supposed to mean for their relationship now. He likes her, she’s sure of his feelings on his end; though she still doesn’t believe he knows her well enough to _love_ her. But does that mean she _likes_ him? And not just in the way that she tolerates him, that she is no longer so greatly opposed to the thought of being with him in marriage?

Her hand moves from her lips to the side of her face, and she feels her cheek burning up as she flusters herself from thinking about it. She has never experienced this before. _Does she like him?_ The other hand remains on the crystal of her necklace, her fingers playing around with the smoothly cut edges. Yellow is far from the color she’s most fond of as it reminds her too much of the sand and the sun and the sight she’s had to behold every day for over a decade, and she had immediately expressed her dislike of it as soon as she saw his gift. It had been rude of her and he had thought she didn’t appreciate it.

If she had said something else back then—

—then she wouldn’t have kissed him. And she wouldn’t be as deliriously happy thinking about seeing him again. And—does that mean she _likes_ him?

There’s a guilt that gnaws at her, though she tries to push it aside. She’s marrying a man she knows _indirectly_. What depth she has uncovered of him was due to the interference of others – namely, Hux and Leia. She may have pieced a few other things by herself but if it hadn’t been for the truth others had given her, she wouldn’t have given him a chance at all. And now she wishes he would stay in D’Qar for her to have her chance to get to know him properly. Her early stipulations were from his not knowing her, when it could have been said for her as well. She doesn’t know him as she ought, but she’s marrying him anyway, and _does that mean—?_

“Well, someone’s using their head—for once.”

Rey peels away from the infinite layers of her thoughts and steps back out into reality to find Poe is standing in front of her – where she imagined Kylo Ren standing instead – with a funny look on his face as he scrutinizes her.

“Are you really Rey? My Rey wouldn’t be caught daydreaming like that.”

“I’m not _yours_ , Dameron.”

“Right, right. You’re going to be a married woman soon enough. Sorry.”

“It’s not a joke,” Rey tells him off. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do, really.”

“Well,” Poe says, voice melodious, “everyone is sure that he loves you. The question I’ve yet to hear the answer to is whether _you_ love him in return.”

“No! How could I?”

“Right, sorry, he was the enemy and all that—”

“Poe, I swear, if you say something like that again—”

“Okay! How about this: do you _like_ him?”

She groans. She couldn’t even give herself a response to that; how is she supposed to answer him?

“I don’t know,” she answers truthfully. “I’ve been asking myself that ever since the duel." 

“What changed then?”

 _Everything_. Rey would tell Poe the truth if only she could. It isn’t that she doesn’t trust Poe, but it isn’t her secret to tell. If the queen said it was okay for her to do so, then she would. She is the only other one who knows who Kylo Ren is supposed to be because the rest of the kingdom has resigned to the loss of their prince, Ben Solo.

If Poe’s parents had been captains of the Rebels, then they would have been close to the royal family somehow. Had Poe known Kylo Ren when he was still Ben Solo? They were only a few years apart in age. Were they playmates or perhaps even friends? Why hadn’t she considered that before? But Poe would have told her if he had sensed something different about the noble from Esstran, especially since he is her betrothed now. So she can conclude that Poe doesn’t know—

“Rey! Your head’s too far up in the clouds again. Come back down from there, will you?” He grabs her by the shoulders and shakes her. If it had been anyone else touching her like that, she would have already smacked them back; but this is Poe, and his way of showing his concern can be half endearing and half infuriating. She glares at him and grunts in protest, but his sudden fit of laughter takes her aback. “Damn, you _do_ like him.”

“What?”

“He gave you that necklace, didn’t he?” He gestures to the pendant wrapped around her neck. “You haven’t taken your hand off it since I saw you staring out and standing here like a fool.”

Finally, she releases her grasp on the stone and clenches her fists to a close, trying to shake off the new feeling of emptiness in her hand.

 

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 _Where have you been?_  

_What do you mean, where have I been? I’ve been dancing here with you for the past hour._

_No, you idiot, I knew that. I meant where have you been to in Ileenium?_

_Oh._ Finn throws his head back, looking up at the ceiling of the small ballroom in the Rebel estate. Usually the area is used for formal gatherings, but in the meantime it’s where their dancing lessons are held. _I’ve been to Takodana, of course. There’s also Naboo, Alderaan, Jakku—_  

_You’ve been to Jakku?_

_Yes, it’s horrible there. You wouldn’t believe how hot it gets._  

 _I can’t imagine,_ she retorts, rolling her eyes at his attempt at a joke. If anything, it’s mocking, but Rey is aware of Finn’s intentions so she lets it pass. _Anyway, you’ve been to every region of the kingdom except Tatooine. That’s impressive. How was that like?_

The corner of Finn’s eyes crinkles as he smiles in thought. _It was nice until I realized I had nothing tying me to any place. It was only in D’Qar that I found some purpose, a home with the Rebels. Travelling can get tiring, especially when you’re on your own._ He looks at her then with a knowing look that speaks to her, _but we are not strangers to loneliness._ And in his usual protective manner, he offers, _If we make it through the war, I’ll take you outside of D’Qar. I always liked Alderaan the most. You’ll love it there, Rey._

 _If_. He says _if_ because their survival isn’t absolute. Regardless, it’s nice to imagine an actual future, to have something to look forward to _if_ they live on after the war; and there is no point imagining a bleak future while still in the present.

 _That would be nice._ She stands back up and extends her hand for him to take. _More dancing? One more round and I’ll have the steps down, I swear._

 _Alright._ He grins as he takes her hand. _More dancing._

 

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She picks up her brush and paints and finally gets to work on something she’s been putting on hold for so long. She hadn’t known how to honor Finn with his gift for her, but now she has an idea.

Admittedly, Rey’s not the best at portraits, but she’s not too bad at them either. She can make it resemble into a likeness without insulting the person too much, she thinks.

It’s been so long, and the finer details are a bit fuzzy, but she’s going to try _, damn it_. Finn’s face is one that’s hard to entirely forget simply because of the fact of their friendship, but the sheer number of days that have passed since _then_ has brought on clouds that haze her memory of how he looks.

She has to try to remember the time when he was happiest. She tethers herself to the memory – _of a quiet hill away from the din of war, in the early morning before a battle begins…_

 

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_Damn, you do like him._

Marriage, Rey knows, is not always about love.

_Sometimes, it’s just about having hope, of having something to look forward to at the end of the war._

But sometimes, it could be. Sometimes, it is.

_And this? This marriage – is it not your duty as well?_

And when Rey really thinks about it, it terrifies her.

 

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“You stay safe, alright? Write me a letter when you can. You don’t have to tell me where you are because of the whole secrecy thing you have going on, but just let me know you’re okay. I mean, I trust you’ll be fine on your own because you’re _you_ , but I just need to know you’re okay, okay? Rey? Promise me, will you?”

“You’re like a damn pest.” She swats his hand away from her shoulder, though the act is more playful than it is spiteful. “I’ll _try_ to write. I won’t be long anyway – three months, at most. I do have to be back for Lord Hux’s wedding." 

“I’m scared for you because I don’t know what you’re even going to be working on. Is it safe? What did Leia ask of you, Rey? Can’t you give me at least a hint—”

“Absolutely not. You’re asking me to break the queen’s confidence!”

“Which I’ve done once or twice to cover for your butt!”

Poe _has_ done exactly that plenty of times, not just once or twice; especially considering all those times she shirked her own responsibilities and he stepped up because he understood how she had been feeling at the time. He has done her multiple favors and if this is the only thing he’s asking in return for all of them…

How is she supposed to phrase it anyway? _Do you remember the queen’s son who we all thought was dead and mourned for years ago? You probably knew him personally, too. Turns out he wasn’t dead ever, Poe! Surprise,_ _I’m actually going to marry him!_

Rey cringes at the wording of her own thoughts. She isn’t actually going to say _that_ , but she does want to tell Poe. If it would ease his worry for her while she’s out there, she’d tell him; but there is only so much she can actually say. 

She can’t tell him who Kylo Ren really is. She can’t tell him that the lost prince Ben Solo was actually stolen away from their kingdom and made to believe that he was from Esstran instead, trained to be the heir of one of the more powerful noble houses in the neighboring land. She can’t tell him that as Kylo Ren, he was the one who killed the king consort, Han Solo – not when Poe looked up to the man. She can’t tell Poe any of those things about her supposed husband-to-be. Not even Kylo Ren knows those facts about himself.

She can’t even tell him about what she’s going to do exactly. _Find Luke Skywalker._ The man had been gone for over a decade and had never once been spotted in the boundaries of Ileenium. It was assumed that he was either far away from the mainland or dead, but Leia had kept holding out for her brother, believing that it was his guilt that led to him exiling himself. And now she’s hoping that learning of the news that his nephew is actually alive will make Luke Skywalker come back.

Rey can’t tell Poe any of those things. As much as she wants to, she _can’t_. They just feel so _personal_. It hadn’t been any of her business, but involving herself with Kylo Ren led to this convoluted mess of the truth somehow. And she can’t get out, not anymore, it’s too late for the thought of backing out at this point because she _cares_.

Before, she had wanted justice for Finn’s death. After finding some peace, she now wants justice for Leia’s broken family – for her lost son and for her estranged brother. And leaving for her mission is a step, hopefully.

“I’m going to Naboo,” she settles on that. Where she’s actually headed to is beyond the region in the western reaches of their kingdom, but again, that’s something she can’t reveal. Still, her first stop _is_ Naboo, so it isn’t exactly a lie. “And I’ll write to you as soon as I get there. There’s a Rebel outpost there anyway which I’ll stay in and end up writing from, so you don’t need to worry at all.”

“You can’t fault me for worrying,” Poe huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “I trust _you_. It’s the rest of the world I don’t trust.”

And Rey knows where Poe’s coming from, she does; aside from his own concern for her wellbeing, it’s also the promise he made to Finn that he’d help look out after Rey after the war. If there _is_ something she can fault Poe with, it’s his unwavering loyalty – even to a man long gone. She had made promises with him, too, of a future that never was, that isn’t; and all those memories resurfacing is enough for her to tear up. Poe is quick to react, though, pulling her into a hug and rubbing the back of her shoulders as he soothes her.

“You’re being sentimental,” he laughs, “glad I was able to rub that off on you somehow.” Then, pulling her closer, “I’m going to miss you, kid.”

“I know. I’m going to miss you, too, Poe. I’ll miss everyone here, so don’t think you’re special or anything like that.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He releases her and gestures to her horse. Her bags have already been tied to the sides earlier and they have everything she needs for the long journey ahead of her. She had been ready when she woke up, but now she’s finally feeling some nerves settling in her gut. It’s safe in D’Qar. It’s familiar, it’s _home_. She wants to stay, but she has her new objective to accomplish and she won’t get anywhere near completing the task handed to her by keeping her feet tied to the capital. “The sun’s almost coming up. You wanted a head start on the day, didn’t you? Go on, Rey, but come back in one piece, alright? We’ll see each other again soon.”

“We will,” she answers him as she mounts on her steed. With practiced hands, she clutches on the reins and maneuvers her horse to move forward. Looking back, she sees Poe waving off his goodbyes for her, the sun rising behind the estate and bathing the land in the soft light of the new morning. It’s a sight that is all comfort and warmth, and she holds the image in her memory, keeping it there for reference: _this is home._

 

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 _We’ll see each other again._ She whispers this promise to a body that isn’t even there, yet she’s still imagining one beneath all the layers of cold: cold air, marble, stone, dirt. _I believe that._  

 _We’ll see each other again_. He makes the promise as his lips stay too long on her skin, and perhaps that’s where the fire had started; why she felt like her hand had been burning for the rest of the day after his departure. _I swear I will dream of you._

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_Travelling can get tiring, especially when you’re on your own._

Rey learns this on the fourth day of being on the route to Naboo. She’s been careful not to overexert her horse and make sure they both rest for periods of a time before carrying on, but it’s her mind that gets tired from the silence that forces her to _think_. She absolutely hates it, because most of her thoughts are centered on Kylo Ren anyway. When she’s not focusing on the road in front of her, her mind is prone to wander: _are you dreaming of me right now?_

And it makes her feel even worse, just how insecure she’s acting. She has faith in his feelings. Everyone else does, so why shouldn’t she? Still, the thought nags at her, and the only action that will quell her timidities is taking the reins in one hand and using the other to hold on to the necklace he had given her. _We’ll see each other again._

She passes a few merchants as she passes through the mountain. The guide one of the Rebels had written for her mentioned that the route would go up and around the side of a mountain and would lead to a winding road downwards to Naboo. It takes her six days to reach this far – she would have made it in half the time if she bothered switching horses somewhere in between, but she’s attached to her companion. This horse, she reasons, has seen the same sights as she has on the way to the western region. It would have been sad for it to miss out on reaching Naboo entirely.

And when she rounds the mountain, she has to stop in her tracks just to take the sight of the new region in – because she sees the ocean she’s been dreaming of her entire life; the vast blue extending beyond the mainland and its unimaginable depths. Her horse whinnies in protest at her stopping when they’ve had some momentum for a while now, but she pays it no mind. Rey cannot believe that she’s actually seeing all that water, and she thinks to herself, _all that water still feels like sinking_.

Eventually, one merchant catches up behind her with their heavy wagon of goods, so Rey does have to carry on down. She continues on her journey with renewed vigor, the scent of salt in the breeze luring her into what is known as the anchorage region, where trading ships dock bearing commodities and passengers from lands across the ocean. 

It’s all _new_ ; and already, she _loves_ it.

 

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The main city in Naboo is bustling with life and mercantile trade, more so than it does in D’Qar. It’s practically a giant market with people shuffling around with their pouches filled with coins and bags brimming with imports that they’ll eventually sell off in other regions in Ileenium. And the shouts of people attempting to haggle over one another are so loud that they make Rey’s heart race in excitement. She’s usually a quiet and reserved person, but the energy of the city is undeniably contagious.

By asking around, she finds herself in the outpost for Rebels stationed in the region. There’s only about a handful of them as their duty is to report to the capital every now and then of the goings on in the region. It’s not the same as in D’Qar where the Rebels actively patrol the land, but the Rebels here act more like mediators. If the people have disputes they cannot settle by themselves and wish to bring up to the Queen’s court, they bring themselves to the Rebels and say so. Rey imagines that’s quite a bore compared to the active lifestyle that’s forced upon the Rebels in the capital, but the other Rebels here convince her otherwise. 

“We do keep up with training, still,” Anneva Minnau, one of the Rebels in Naboo, tell her as she sits at their small reception area, a warm meal pressed to her face. Rey is absolutely _famished,_ and actual cooked food tastes divine after a week of consuming her stock of stale bread. “And sometimes we do runs around the city just to make sure everything’s fine, but they’re not regular like in D’Qar. We don’t have the capacity for that anyway.”

“Don’t you miss D’Qar, though?" 

“Nah, Naboo has always been my home, so I like staying here and protecting the people I care for. What about you, Captain? Don’t you miss Jakku?”

“How did you know I was from Jakku?”

“Oh, sorry. It’s your accent,” Anneva says. “Dead giveaway you’re not from the capital. And you don’t speak like someone from Alderaan or Takodana either. So I just guessed you were from Jakku.”

Rey tells Anneva that _no, I don’t miss Jakku at all. It was horrid._ Naboo is refreshing, the cold air from the ocean carrying over into the city. When she describes how hot the sand in Jakku is, how it scalds like solid fire, Anneva grimaces in pity. The sands of their beaches in Naboo are fine and always cool to the touch.

“Well, welcome to Naboo, Captain Rey,” Anneva greets with a warm smile, standing up and collecting Rey’s plate for her. “But this is not where you’re staying, is it?”

 

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She has several drafts lined up, but she has no idea how to make the words connect, how to make herself sound more flowery and convincing at it. It’s just not her to speak that way, and she knows Poe knows that about her; he’ll understand. 

She ends up with this: _Hi. I’m okay._ _Naboo is wonderful. I hope you found your gift by now and that you like it. If not, I hid it at the back of your closet. Anyway, I’ll be okay. See you soon._

 

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What Rey has with her is only one rucksack. In it is just one change of clothes, a flask for clean water, a few pieces of bread, and the sealed letter of Leia Organa for her brother Luke Skywalker. The rest of her possessions are in the Rebel outpost and for where she’s headed to next, she needs the mobility unrestrained by baggage.

The sun is nowhere near rising, but already the city is alive with traders wandering and ships arriving, lit candles held in lamps on the side of the streets to show the way. There isn’t as many people as there would be in the afternoon, so the way to the docks isn’t too crowded. Rey navigates with little difficulty, having remembered the directions from the outpost to where she needs to be, as instructed to her by Anneva.

She has been in Naboo for a few days now, and in the time she spent going around, she had been able to find someone willing to charter a travel arrangement for her to head to her destination, someone also supposedly passing there. She had to pay the old man a good sum as a deposit, but Rey is sure she won’t be stood up – not when she had alerted him of her rank as a Rebel Captain.

The sun is nowhere near rising, but this is the time she has to leave, especially when it’ll take her days to go to where she needs to be: the free isle of Ahch-To.

 

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 _There are tales from across the sea._ Leia speaks to her in a manner of a mother telling her child a bedtime story. _Most people do not believe the seafarers nefarious tales, believing them to be nothing but fiction made by men who spend too much time alone in the oceans, surrounded by the company of nothing but water and salt. But sometimes, they’re true. Sometimes, the other people they claim to meet at sea are not just imagined by those men. Sometimes, they’re real._

Rey doesn’t know how to feel as Leia says this. Right now the queen is sounding like Rey, when she had been in denial after the attack on the second bastion. She had wanted to come there after she had heard whispers of survivors still left behind; but Poe had been there to slap some sense in her. _Finn isn’t there anymore, Rey._

She wants to ask Leia, _are you sure?_

But she doesn’t even have to voice her concern, not when Leia continues without prompting, _I know it. I know he’s still out there. Just as I wanted to believe my Ben was still alive._ Leia pauses to take a breath. _Do you believe in the Force, Rey? It connects us all. Before you think me a mad old woman, just…_

She doesn’t think Leia’s insane at all. Whether the Force exists or not isn’t what they’re arguing about here. The queen doesn’t have to bring up the old faith of their people to make her trust in her gut feelings.

 _I’ll go,_ Rey tells her. _I’ll find Luke Skywalker._

 

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She’s lightheaded from having heaved her stomach empty. She hadn’t expected travelling on water to be that horrible. It’s an experience she doesn’t want to go through again, but she has to come back to Naboo after she checks the island, and the only way back to the mainland is the boat docked on the rocky shores of Ahch-To.

She hadn’t even been awake when they arrived on the island at night. She had tried to stave off the pain in her head by sleeping it off, only waking up every now and then to purge the bitterness in her mouth. But now, now that they’re here on Ahch-To – she and her chartered companion – she has to find Luke Skywalker.

The man is to stay in the island with her for a week, waiting while she goes on with her quest. He hands her a woven cot for her to lie in so she doesn’t rest on the sand. She wants to laugh at the thought of someone thinking that she isn’t all right with that, but they’re strangers. He wouldn’t have known that about her, like she knows nothing of him. They hadn’t spoken at all on their trip, what with Rey either deep in thought, clutching at her pendant, or sleeping, but he had often tried to make her comfortable, offering medicament when she had experienced the first signs of seasickness. 

“Why are you here, little girl?” he asks her, a good distance away in his own cot. Between them, a fire had been set up; the chips of wood crackling and sparking. “No one lives on Ahch-To.”

She figures that he’s just a simple seafarer, and there could be no harm in telling him. They’re here now, removed from the population, and he would have no one else to tell this to. In fact, she thinks he could help her, too, if he had an idea of where she should try.

“I’m here to find Luke Skywalker,” Rey tells him. “I first thought he was a myth, but he’s real, apparently. Have you heard of him?”

“Luke Skywalker? Why are you looking for him?”

“Queen Leia Organa sent me to find him. I even have a letter from her that I should give him. She said he would be here on this island. Have you heard of him?”

“Show me.”

“What?” 

He grins. “Show me the letter my sister wrote me.”

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to update earlier (as I announced on tumblr) but then I fell sick. Like, I-couldn't-breathe-at-all sick. I still am, but I'm feeling a bit better now. :)
> 
> Anyway! My birthday is next Friday! I'll see if I can update it next weekend. :)
> 
> Again, I just want to express my appreciation for all of you! Thank you all so much for sticking with this story, even though I now have a bad tendency to not update regularly (as I used to earlier in the year). Thank you all for your patience, and I hope to see you guys again in the next chapter! <3
> 
> (I'm also on [tumblr](http://kaathiiee.tumblr.com) if you want to find me there!)


	12. Islands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I celebrated my birthday two weeks ago and I hardly got to do any celebrating. I'll have a late celebration by posting this chapter instead. Enjoy it. <3

 

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Rey doesn’t believe it.

She’s seen the portrait of Luke Skywalker hanging on the corridor in the Rebel estate. Granted, the face she’s come to associate the name of one of the supposed bravest men of Ileenium is three decades younger than the one she’s seeing now, but _still_. At least she could still relate Leia’s face to the one in the portrait as she had aged gracefully; but her brother now shows an entirely different picture, an entirely different life. She’s seen faces like his before, back in the deserts of Jakku. She’s met people who’ve also had life stack weights of grief on their shoulders and make them waste away in solitude. It’s all in Luke’s eyes, how his heart could not handle the world, so he had hidden himself away.

She hadn’t thought much of her ferryman, being more occupied by her seasickness and the fear that the ocean could consume them both. Now, this new revelation is bringing about a different kind of dizziness. _He can’t possibly be Luke Skywalker._

“You?” she asks again, flabbergasted as she tries to reassure herself, shaking off the migraine forming in her head from the dissociation of her expectations from what _is_. “You’re really Luke Skywalker?" 

He doesn’t need to answer it because she sees it now. She catches glimpses of the shadow of the young man known as the Hero of Ileenium when the fire between them crackles with life as a breeze passes by. It’s really _him_. Rey has found _Luke Skywalker_ with hardly any effort at all. It could have been a stroke of luck; it could have been fate that led her to him. It matters little when he is already right there in front of her.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were Luke Skywalker?” She already believes him; there remains a tone of disbelief in her voice as she asks nonetheless. “ _You_?”

“You didn’t ask.” He shrugs at her question. “Come on, show me the letter.”

She rifles through the meager contents of her bag and stands to hand him the sealed parchment Leia had given to her. He eyes it thoroughly, inspecting the imprint on the wax. It takes him a few minutes of just staring at the still-closed letter before he nods and hides it away.

“You’re not going to read it?” Rey wouldn’t know how receiving a letter from someone you haven’t spoken to in over a decade should feel; but it angers her so, how easily he dismisses the love and efforts of his sister.

“ _Patience_ ,” is his response, “I’ll get to it eventually. For now, it’s dark and I’m tired. Come on, let’s get some sleep in.” 

She should argue with him. She should tell him, _Leia sent me for you to read it, so you should._ It’s her duty, and for the better part of her life she has convinced herself to do her duty first and foremost, to see what has been asked of her to completion. But what difference does a few hours make? Luke Skywalker is already in her presence. She had been given two months to follow up on the lead given to the queen by her intelligencers, and she had done the task in a fourth of that. 

 _And_ – the old man is already asleep, his snores ringing against the sound of the waves crashing on the shoreline. So there goes her chance.

 

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The next day, she wakes up to find Luke no longer in his cot. There is an immediate panic that rises from her, but as soon as she sights the boat they had come with still tied to the makeshift port, it settles. She may not know him, but she knows he is not so unkind as to leave her on this island with no way off of it.

The front of the island has a beachfront that becomes a forest of trees, and beyond that is some sort of rocky mountain. The quiet of the island eerily reminds her of the desert, how there was no sound but the wind. There are no other people chattering on, no hooves of horses clattering on the street, no birds cawing in the distance. There is nothing but the sea and the breeze it brings with the waves.

It’s beautiful; but another thought passes her: _it’s lonely here._ To Rey, it’s equal parts thrilling and terrifying. She doesn’t ever want to go back to the life of isolation. It’s hard to comprehend just how Luke could have managed it, could have forced himself into the exile without anybody else.

“Rey!” Luke Skywalker is calling her, and she turns, shifts in the sand to see him running to her with a large fruit in his hands. He isn’t far, so she walks to meet him in the middle. Reunited, he offers her the already cut fruit, some of its juices spilling and dripping from his fingers. “You haven’t broken your fast yet, have you? Go on.”

On cue, her stomach rumbles. Luke smiles a smile reminiscent of the elders in her small village of Niima whenever they would see the small and frail Rey running around. It’s one of mixed interest and pity for a child still naïve of the world. She doesn’t like thinking of herself as a child, but Luke Skywalker must see her as one because of just how ancient he acts. It’s all too familiar, and she isn’t at all comfortable with his unwarranted sympathy, so she turns away as she takes up the offered fruit. She bites into the sweet core as she stares out at the sea, mesmerized by the dark blue of it in the light of day.

“So,” he starts with a low grumble, “are you really a captain of the Rebels?” 

“Are _you_ really Luke Skywalker?" 

“I am,” he chuckles as he responds. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“Well, _you’re_ not convinced I’m a captain in rank.”

“To be fair, you didn’t have anything on you to signify you being an elite when you were in Naboo asking around for someone to ferry you to Ahch−To. If you appreciate honesty, I’ll tell you what my impression of you was: I thought you were trying to run away.”

“Why would I have been running away?”

“Girls don’t usually ask someone to remove them from the kingdom and take them far away to an island with nobody else in it.”

“As you’re quite aware, I’m on a mission.”

“To find me, yes,” he supplies for her. “You’re successful in that regard, I suppose. What now?”

She scrunches her brow as he questions her. _What now?_  

“You…” She faces him once more and sees now that he is acting much more austere, expressing none of the light disposition and friendliness he had earlier. _What now?_ “You’re supposed to read the letter. The course of action I’ll take next depends on it.”

“And if I choose not to read the letter? If I rip it apart or throw it out to the sea, what then?”

 _You are not that cruel._ The man praised to be the Hero of Ileenium during the dark years of the Empire is not supposed to be a mean, void of empathy for his sister’s wishes of him coming home. Her hands close to a fist, crushing the fruit held within it, and she grits her teeth. Is this the man he has become from years by himself in the sea. 

“The queen sent me to bring you back, so I will see to it that I do as she ordered,”

Rey huffs. “If necessary, I will take you to her by force!”

“Ah.” He grins at that, finally dropping the aura of solemnity. “With what? You don’t know how to navigate the boat back to Ileenium, and you have no authority to carry out Leia’s orders here as we are on a _free_ isle where her sovereignty has no bearing.”

She’s stunned at his answer because he’s _right_. She has no power over him, and she doubts herself capable of overpowering him, even at his age. She had watched him lift his stores onto the small ship with no assistance whatsoever. He may have been in isolation, but he had definitely not let himself waste away so easily. Even without it having to be spoken, the two of them both know that Rey is at his utmost mercy, with her incapable of surviving on this island by herself.

“What a waste of good fruit. It was rightly ripe when I took it from its branches.” He sighs as he motions at the ruined fruit in Rey’s still-clenched hand. “I was just teasing, _Captain_. I know you have more than enough time before you have to go back to D’Qar to report to Leia. _Patience_. Now, come along. I’ll show you where to get fruits for when you get hungry or thirsty.”

Luke turns and begins to walk back in the direction of where they had set up a temporary camp upon their arrival. Rey is still seething, both incensed and mortified by the reminder of her being utterly powerless in the situation. Still, from their interactions so far, she can tell Luke is not the type of person to deliberately mean something ill upon others. _He’s just an old, bored man trying to get a rise out of you for his own entertainment, Rey_.

Eventually, she’s able to breathe herself back into a more calmed state. There’s no use harboring negative feelings when they’re the only ones on the island. It could drive her crazier and turn her more desperate. It’s only been a day, after all. She trudges back to their settlement, dragging the weight of her boots along the soft sand, watching as the water rises up the shore to wash the lines away and then fall back into the sea.

When she arrives back at the site, she sees Luke has already gathered a whole basket of fruits of different kinds, some of which she has never seen before. He’s also brought down some of the crates that he had stowed on his boat when they left Naboo, the contents of which she also doesn’t know.

“Seeing as you brought absolutely nothing at all with you, would you mind helping me bring these up?” He points to one stack of boxes. “We’ll be taking two trips to get some of them up to my hut at the top. The rest of them we can get tomorrow.”

“Why should I?” she scoffs just beneath her breath, just for the sake of arguing. She will, of course, because she’s not about to be let the old man carry all of those by himself, no matter how able he has already proven himself to be.

“I heard that,” he warns with a light tone, chuckling. “I’m sure you’ll be able to keep up, Captain. Rebels are required to be strong, aren’t they?” He walks back to the where his boat is anchored down and continues, “I still have a few more to unload, so you can go on and eat first. You’re still hungry, I’m sure, and you’ll need your energy for the day.”

Her stomach rumbles again and she doesn’t even try to deny herself anymore. She picks up one fruit from the basket with brown and fuzzy flesh and begins cutting through it, the juice spilling out from the sides a peculiar shade of bright green. She brings up the fruit to her mouth and takes a bite, humming in delight as the sweetness hits her tongue. She settles herself on the sand and begins devouring the rest of the fruits next to her, eager to try out the exotic flavors each one has to offer.

By the time Luke comes back with another crate in his hands, she’s already finished five; and seeing her childlike with the mess on her face and her hands, he laughs.

 

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There is not much to be said between them as they make their way up to Luke’s hut. She doesn’t mind the silence because it gives her the space to take in the environment of the island. She still smells the salt of the sea, but the new sensation she notes is that on her skin; like the water is creeping beneath it. She finds she doesn’t really enjoy the humidity, preferring the direct warmth back in D’Qar.

“We’re almost there,” Luke promises. Rey is straining with the weight of the box in her hands, but seeing the older man not struggle at all with his own load, she doesn’t bother complaining. To have to say anything of it is an admission of weakness; and she isn’t about to make herself seem anything less to Luke than he already perceives her.

She carries on, diligently following behind him until they finally arrive at a flattened area, just one of the lower peaks of the mountain. She sights a hut built with walls of stone and long dried leaves of trees they had passed earlier covering the top of the structure. It looks spacious enough from the outside. Perhaps three or even four people could live comfortably in it, but Luke is by himself here on this island, so he takes up all that space by himself.

“Here we are,” Luke announces as he sets down his crate. Rey follows suit, glad to be relieved of the pressure on her fingers. “Welcome to my dwelling, Rey. It’s not as grand as the Rebel estate, but I’m sure you can make do for now. Those of us forged in the heat of Ileenium aren’t too picky with our environment once we pull ourselves out of the sands, hm?”

Rey hums her noncommittal agreement. She forgets that Luke Skywalker also knows the desert as he had spent a good portion of his life in the temples of Tatooine. Her mind doesn’t ponder on that thought for too long because she’s busy taking in the environment. _This is where he had hidden himself away._ He had made a world for himself here, finding a way to sustain himself while in isolation. He has a garden at the side of the hut and a reserve of fresh water, using wooden shoots fashioned into pipes to carry them down to this peak. There’s also a pile of logs on the side and a pit nearby filled with darkened ash and sand, most likely where he starts the fire to keep himself warm.

Luke calls for her from inside his hut, inviting her in. The breeze picks up and while it cools her sweated skin, it’s a tad bit _too_ cool. Going inside is an excuse to get away from the wind, but in actuality she’s more curious than she is searching for comfort. To know what’s inside is to have insight to how Luke Skywalker has managed to be alone for all these years.

She walks in slowly, expecting a semblance of a home – but instead she is greeted by walls lined with tomes and scrolls from one end of the cottage to the other. There are also crates on the floor, opened yet unsorted. At the center is a table with unbound texts held down by a stone, and blank papers and writing instruments beside them. In one side is a makeshift kitchen, pots and pans arranged on a shelf. In one corner is a cot kept neat, the linens washed and folded. He even has a small dresser and a mirror to keep his appearance not so rugged. It isn’t a home as much as it is a study. Luke Skywalker left Ileenium only to remake the scholarly life he had known.

“I go to Naboo every now and then to restock on some necessities which I cannot make or provide for myself here on the island. To get new readings, I trade in some of my own ledgers, notes on texts based on what I learned back in Tatooine,” he says, pulling some books out of one of the boxes and setting it aside on the center table. “You’re lucky to have stumbled upon me while I was there. Quite the coincidence, don’t you think?”

He’s still rambling, talking to himself as he sorts out cluttered items around the hut. Occasionally he tries to speak to her, asking her of current things back in the kingdom, laughing as he mutters about the probability of his notes being outdated and inconsistent and the poor fellows he sold them to. He voices every other opinion, if only to hear his words echo back to him, and finally it registers to Rey to ask. 

“Don’t you ever get lonely?”

He stops in his tracks, in his tasks, and looks up at her. The smile he gives her is uneasy, reminiscent of that of the elders back in Jakku whom she kept trying to convince of her parents returning for her. He smiles as though the truth that is just about to pass his lips is something she cannot comprehend, cannot bear to hear.

 

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The hero of Ileenium was a farm boy. It was a household story meant to inspire others, to convince anyone of their capability of being great despite having come from the most humble of beginnings. It was also a joke passed around those born into lives with little to no privilege. _The should-be crown prince was a farmer himself_. It was a reminder to be kind to anyone and everyone, no matter their status. 

According to history, as it is written in the texts, Luke Skywalker was raised in a farming village in the northern parts of the region of Tatooine, where the land was accommodating enough to provide some nourishment for their crops. They would harvest enough to sustain themselves and to give tribute to the emperor in D’Qar. What they had yields to spare, they would send them over to the scholars at the temples, which was a day’s ride away due to the difficulty in navigating the rocky slopes and dunes leading to the citadel which hid away the true treasure of Ileenium: centuries worth of knowledge.

Luke had been the one assigned to go to the temples to bring them the excess from their harvest that month. He had only been gone for two days, but when he returned his village had been razed, houses and humans alike consumed by fire. He could not come any closer as the smoke still covered the area and the stench of death was too horrible. His home, his family and his friends – everything was gone. Turning back around, he sought shelter at the temples.

The fire was a mystery that plagued him throughout his journey through the desert to make his way back to the temples, tugging at his feet to make them feel leaden, filling him with desolation at the thought of the permanence of everything he held dear being gone. He had questions, and it came as a surprise to him that someone was already expecting him when he arrived.

 _Young Skywalker_ , the old man clothed in the robes of a scholar addressed him. _Word has reached us that the troops of the emperor stormed your village demanding for owed tribute worth months. There was nothing left to give and the villagers claimed to have already sent their dues. The disagreement escalated into the violence leading to the fire. We are very sorry for your loss._

The older scholar’s name was Obi Wan Kenobi and he had taken in Luke under his wing, guiding him around the temples, giving him the foundation required in order to begin a new life. Luke flourished as a scholar, learning at a faster rate than many of those who came before him, yet none envied him for it. They all knew of the burden Luke carried in his heart despite his achievements.

Days turned into weeks into months, and one day there were a group of people at the doors of the temple, seeking asylum. _We have the princess, the true daughter and heir of Queen Padmé_. _The emperor wants her dead._ _Please._

Princess Leia Organa stayed in the temples with her with her companions who called themselves Rebels. Luke hadn’t seen any of them for the first week of their stay, having hidden himself in one of the many halls, as he was busy transcribing texts. Their meeting was inevitable, however. Everyone, both scholars and refugees alike, was requested to come to the great hall for an announcement of sort. Luke had just turned the corner when he witnessed an argument between the princess and one of her cohorts.

 _Princess_ , Luke greets, surprised by her beauty.

 _She prefers to be called ‘Your Worshipness’,_ the tall man at her side jokes as he extends a hand. _Hi, I’m Han._

Leia rolled her eyes, but Luke didn’t miss the small smile that graced her lips before she turned around. The two men trailed after her, with Luke attempting polite conversation, asking if they’ve gone to the libraries. It is pleasant, with Leia joining in on the small talk, until they enter the hall and receive news of how multiple villages in Alderaan had been burned down by arsonists under orders of the emperor as they searched for the one who could contest his hold on the power to rule Ileenium.

Ever graceful, the princess didn’t crumble at the discovery of what had happened to her home region – at least outwardly she hadn’t shown it. But Luke could feel it. Luke knew the devastation of losing his home; knew the burden of surviving, of being the only one left to carry on.

 _We have to go,_ Leia urged her people as she rose to the podium. _They are after me, not the innocents who continue to die their search. This has to end once and for all, and the time to act is now. We have to go after the empire._

Han gave out a low whistle. Luke looked over at the older trader and listened as he ranted, _I have a bad feeling about this._

Luke had volunteered to join their party, feeling for the princess and believing in her cause. Obi Wan had been there to see him off, handing him a letter that Luke was to open on the way to D’Qar, where the emperor awaited the forces of the Rebels with his own troops. It was how he learned of his identity, of the legacy he was burdened with – that he shared with his sister.

To get to the castle they had to first get through the emperor’s army, led by the infamous bloodthirsty hound of the emperor, Darth Vader. But Obi Wan hadn’t informed Luke that the man behind the dark mask and armor was really Anakin Skywalker, their father. Leia had stood at the frontlines, brave and beautiful – _just like your mother_ , Darth Vader had called out from across the battlefield. Luke had been there at her side, asking how he knew of their mother, Queen Padmé. He answered them bluntly, _I am your father._ With the memory of his late wife and the knowledge that their children were alive, he was quick to turn against the emperor, who had led him to believe he had nothing left.

The men loyal to Darth Vader joined him, joined the rebellion, thus turning the empire’s forces against itself. Emperor Palpatine hadn’t stood a chance when the Skywalkers stormed the castle to fight for the throne. Luke had almost been struck down in the battle had Darth Vader not intervened, the sword being thrust into his torso instead.

Leia was proclaimed as the Queen after the dust had cleared, after all the deaths had been accounted for and everyone who had fought by her side had been properly buried. She refused to take up Anakin’s last name, claiming that it was due to keeping tradition. _Our mother, Queen Padmé— she chose to be an Amidala. Now I get to choose to honor those who raised me and taught me everything I know now._

Luke had tried to argue with her. _He was our father. He fought by our side and protected the both of us in the final battle. Was that not honorable? Don’t you remember?_

 _He did right by the kingdom in the end,_ Leia said in turn, _but he was not my father._

 

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What is supposed to be a week on the island fades into a month. Rey herself is surprised by how quickly she’s adapted and gotten used to the simple and clean routine Luke follows. In the morning, they would tend to the garden, trimming away the weeds before they could grow and taking the vegetables and fruits that were ripe enough to consume. He would begin cooking while Rey would trek a little ways up the mountain where there was a stream steady enough for her to wash her sleep away. When she’d come back, he would have a bowl of his stew on his lap as he goes through a book. She would join him at the center table, finding texts to keep her preoccupied. And _oh_ , how she loves it. Back in D’Qar, she had dreaded her lessons, eager to get on to polishing her skills in fighting and riding; but here on Ahch-To, there is no rush at all, no war that calls for urgency. Here, she genuinely enjoys being filled with knowledge of the past and also reading fanciful tales woven by those from other kingdoms, variations of the same tales told to children in Ileenium. It helps that her companion is just as insightful, adding his own comments and answering her many questions.

They would sit around the table until it became late into the afternoon, until Luke would invite her to come outside to stretch and exercise. It was on one of these light excursions that Rey learned that Luke also knew of forms for fighting which Rey had never come across before. She had begged him to teach her, and there had been days in which he indulged her and others when the rain wouldn’t permit them to come outside. When they would be exhausted, she would start the fire outside while he reheated some of the stew for their supper. They would eat then they would sleep, then another day would begin anew. 

 _It’s peaceful._ There is something in the silence of the place that gives Rey a sense of tranquility; that calms her and relieves her of the tension she had never even realized she carried constantly in D’Qar. She is standing at one edge of the peak, looking over at the sea; watching as the skies are carrying gray clouds towards the direction of the island.

“Come here, Rey!” Luke beckons for her to come inside the hut. She goes inside and sights Luke hunched over a box she had never noticed before. _He must have hidden it elsewhere,_ Rey concludes as she kneels down to join him at his side. He has a tool in his hand that he uses to pry open the box, pulling out the nails embedded in the wood.

“Do you want me to do it?” she offers, but he shakes his head, affirming her that he could manage. She sits, idly tapping her fingers on the flooring as Luke continues to try. Eventually, though, he gives in and hands her the tool, muttering excuses such as _my bones aren’t cooperating today because of the weather_ and _it was much easier to close this box years ago than to open it now._ She laughs, having already gotten used to his way of joking.

He had already removed most of the nail, so it only takes Rey a little effort to pull it out in its entirety. She does this for each corner of the lid of the box and backs away as Luke hunches over and reaches for the sides of the cover, lifting it up slowly, as though it is a heavier weight than it appears.

Weeks ago she would have been eager to sneak a peek at what is inside, but over the days of her stay on the island, Luke had somehow gotten through to her with his constant mantra of _patience_. She stands at the side, waiting for Luke to come up as well. She catches a glimpse of a long cloth wrapped around the contents and she recognizes its purpose in an instant.

“This was my father’s,” Luke says as he balances the weapon on his open palms to show her. The first thing she notices is how the point and edges have dulled and the fuller had rusted over, but it is nothing a good sharpening and polishing could not restore. Then her eyes move toward the shoulder where curls that form patterns of sorts resembling clouds are engraved; and then to the hilt, where embedded blue crystals, lustrous and unscratched, connect a network of etched intricate scrolls. It looks something meant for decorating, not for fighting with. “Before Anakin Skywalker turned away from his old life and gave himself to be in the service of Emperor Palpatine, this was his. My mentor back in Tatooine, Obi Wan Kenobi, gave me this when I left the temples to join the Rebels. He told me he knew my father when they were younger and that my father had been a great man until he died. He didn’t tell me Anakin became Darth Vader.”

“It makes for a nice story.” Sometimes Rey is still in awe of how she’s able to have a first-hand source of actual events that shaped their kingdom to how it is presently.

“I think so too, despite my personal involvement in the tragedy.” Luke has that glaze over his eyes again, the one that occurs whenever he’s thinking about the past. He does that often, gaining that far-off look and becoming emotive when he tells her of history as he had witnessed it. “But reminiscing isn’t the reason why I brought the sword out. The sword has seen better days, and my hope is for it to see some more. You are a captain of the Rebels, sworn to protect my sister and her interests. This sword, like any other weapon, is capable not only of taking away lives, but also saving them. While you were here, you have shown me great promise. I believe I’ve kept you from your true duty long enough.”

“What…” she finds herself sputtering as Luke practically shoves the weighted weapon in her hands. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying it’s time for you to go home.”

“But what about my training?” She’s thinking of the sessions they’ve yet to have, of the other forms he’s yet to teach her. “And all those books I haven’t read yet. I’m not yet done with my latest one, the one by my cot—”

“There are much more in the castle. And as a Rebel, you are always welcome to Tatooine.”

And Rey could slap herself right there and then if only it did not make her look more a fool, and if her hands aren’t preoccupied with holding the sword. She had been so caught up in her readings and training that she had _forgotten_ —

“The letter. Have you even read it? If I’m coming home, then so are you!”

“No, I have not.”

“Leia’s waiting for you. She—she just wants to be with her family.”

“Rey,” Luke sighs, and it is the sigh he lets out when he’s speaking with his entire life on his shoulders. “Perhaps you do know of the circumstances, but I do not expect you to understand. My sister’s son, my nephew, he…he died because of my failure. I promised Leia I would watch over him, that I would take care of him, and I couldn’t even do that. Now she’s lost Han, too.”

 _It’s been years and Luke still hadn’t forgiven himself for it._ This is how Rey knows he really hadn’t bothering with the letter. She wants to keep her calm, she wants to still be patient with him, but it has run thin from frustration and she is _angry_. She feels injustice for others like her, for the orphans who truly know nothing of those who share their blood with. She just doesn’t comprehend how people could take those things for granted so easily.

“Don’t you think it means something that she sent someone to search for you?”

“Perhaps she’s setting me up back in the capital, to have me sentenced to death for all the misery I’ve caused her. She never liked hearing it, but the older members of the court always said she had a raging soul which could have matched Vader’s.”

“You—you’re joking, right?”

“About her sentencing me to death? Maybe. About what she’s inherited from our biological father? I wish." 

Rey could only shake her head. She doesn’t even want to imagine a truly wrathful queen. What she can only think of now is the concern in Leia’s eyes when the queen had heard of her dealings with Kylo Ren, of the desperation as a mother while watching Rey try to duel her way out of accepting his proposal. Not once has she witnessed Leia snap or be as vengeful as Luke is saying she’s capable of – somehow she doesn’t doubt it either.

But that is not what they’re supposed to be talking about. She’s supposed to be convincing him to come back with her to Ileenium, and she’s so stupid for having forgotten, and she blames the island, and she most certainly blames Luke Skywalker as well; and if he’s not going to read the letter, then she has to say something that will finally make him do so. 

“The Prince Ben Solo lives,” Rey breathes out as Luke’s mouth goes slack and his eyes go wide, “and I am here not just as a Rebel sworn to find you as the queen bid me, but also as his betrothed.”

Outside, the first patter of the rainstorm drops on the ground. A strong gust of wind enters the hut through an open window, putting out all of the lit candles and stringing along papers that had not been weighted down onto a surface. The sun is hidden away by heavy clouds. The room is swallowed by shadows as the storm envelops the island, and Luke Skywalker—

Luke doesn’t believe it.

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a late update, I'm sorry. My cat who has been with me for eleven and a half years died a few days ago, and it's been hard for me because 1) that's the second cat I own who's left me in the span of a month and 2) he's been my constant friend for over a decade. But we move on, and we take this sadness and turn it into love for something else.
> 
> We'll be moving back to the main plot soon enough. Sorry if it's been a bit slow, but the past two chapters were a necessary detour to get Luke into the story. Spoilers: Kylo will be back next chapter! 
> 
> See you then! As always, I'm just on tumblr if you have questions or you just want to drop by for a nice message. Either is fine. :)


	13. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My last update was two months ago. Thank you, thank you, thank you for your patience. I don't deserve such lovely readers in you guys. Thank you especially to those who message me on tumblr asking for updates because you guys remind me to keep working on this story. I was struggling with school at the end of the semester and it's been hell. I'm still actually trying to beg for my professor to give me a few points to pass this one subject and it's been stressing me out, so I took to finishing up this chapter to destress, haha.
> 
> Also, I rewrote some parts of this chapter, that's why this chapter is longer than most (possibly the longest yet). After news of Carrie Fisher came out the other day, I had to give her a larger role in this chapter just to show how much I love her. Huhu. I had to move some stuff to the next chapter too, so I'm adjusting how I've spread the plot. Nothing you guys need to be concerned about anyway since you don't know what's happening next. :p
> 
> Anyway, thank you again for your patience. I hope this chapter is rewarding for all the waiting you guys have done. Actually, I said I would update it before Christmas day, but then I traveled to the province to visit my relatives and it turned out they didn't have wi-fi. There wasn't any signal for me to access the internet from my phone either. Woops. 
> 
> Some feelings for this chapter in the form of [Home by Vanessa Carlton](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d-RHfaJgHBE).
> 
> Happy holidays!! <3

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The air is all wrong.

It’s something she notices when she makes her way around the mountain to the valley where D’Qar lies. This isn’t the first time she’s felt the not so subtle shift in her environment. When she leaves Jakku behind, she had noticed how much more _wet_ the air could be. The last time she walks away from the battlefields of Takodana, the scent of death doesn’t stop following her until she scrubs her skin raw. Now, the lack of salt is so obvious that it feels _weird_ , like she should be turning back around to get back to the land by the waters.

But she sees it. She sees _home_ in D’Qar, and it’s something she’s learned to appreciate more than ever during her time away from the Rebels and the city. Her mission had ended up as some retreat instead, an unwarranted vacation of sorts. It had been nice and she now has a new dream, a new unrealized love to explore the rest of the kingdom and the lands beyond it even more after that experience; but she still has a duty: to continue to serve the crown, the kingdom; and to follow through with the marriage and comply with the requirements of the treaty. The weights of the pendant around her neck and the sword at the side of her hip remind her as much.

When Rey enters the region, the guards stationed welcome her with a salute. Funny, Rey thinks, they’re the same ones who had seen her off when she left more than a month ago. They offer to refill her jug and give her some bread and cheese to fill her stomach. They even tell her she can lie down and rest a bit to let her horse have some water before she proceeds.  She accepts their kindness. A few minutes to herself so that she feels less tired before she reports to the queen is good.

The two guards begin conversation while she’s sitting beneath a tree with their food in hand. It’s peaceful here, still far away from the main city; the nearest village is a leisurely five-minute ride away. It’s quiet, but not _too_ quiet, as it had been on most of her journey. Hearing people talk to her is refreshing and a reminder that she hasn’t lost her sanity yet from all the silence of her lone travelling.

“Captain, if it’s alright to ask—” One of them starts, and Rey already knows what they’re going to say before they finish the question.

“It’s classified,” she says. “Try securing the queen’s permission first, and then I’ll tell you what I did outside D’Qar.”

“It was worth a shot asking anyway,” they answer. “Whatever it was you did, I hope you had fun out there, Captain.”  

She thinks of her time on the island of Ahch-To. Luke is still there, he must be, and she imagines him looking out from one of the peaks of the mountain at this moment. He is as isolated as he has allowed himself to be for over a decade, but now he’s finally found some peace for himself.  He must be smiling to himself, already having thought of something witty to say once they meet again. Without her there anymore for company, she wonders how he’s going to let out his jokes and puns – however terrible they had been, they weren’t exactly unbearable. The old man is probably going to unleash them to a poor, unsuspecting rock.

Rey laughs to herself at the thought. Her companions stare at her as though she’s grown a second head, but the captain doesn’t mind them. She misses her pseudo-mentor already, misses the simplicity of life on the island with nothing but books and practice to fill up her hours, but she has to move on – and real life is calling her back to D’Qar.  

 

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The first thing she has to do once she enters the city proper is to report to the queen herself. It’s not like anyone is going to stop her from having an audience with Leia, what with her rank and her personal relationship with her – which, Rey hasn’t really given much thought before. If she marries Kylo Ren, that makes Queen Leia her mother-in-law. Maybe not lawfully, as Kylo Ren isn’t related to Leia Organa, but _Ben Solo_ is – and thinking about it confuses her, reminds her why she doesn’t even think about it in the first place. 

She is sure she reeks, so she allows the servants to lead her to a bath and dress her in whatever way they want, too tired to argue anyway. Sabé comes up to greet her as the handmaiden Rey is usually entrusted to and she is thrilled when the lady captain declares that she won’t refuse anything, even a dress. While she loves the practicality of pants, Rey has to admit that she’s missed the freedom of letting her legs breathe while in a skirt.

“Oh, how have you been, my lady?” Sabé questions as she brushes out the knots of Rey’s hair in the bath. There must be small twigs and leave stuck in there from when she rested beneath a tree by the outpost earlier as she feels Sabé pick them out with her hands before returning to using a comb.  “It has been awfully boring lately here in the castle. The parties and gatherings when all our guests from Esstran were here made it lively. Now it’s back to political meetings, such bores.”

“You’re just bored because you have nothing to gossip about without the nobles’ presence,” Rey points out, to which the handmaiden hums in reply. “I’ve been well, Sabé, thank you for asking.”

“I was worried it would be long before you returned. Or that perhaps you wouldn’t come back at all. What dangers you Rebels have to face at times. To make up for the lack of anything to talk about in the castle affairs, we were guessing what it was the queen sent you out of D’Qar for.”

“Guessing or betting?”

“You caught us there,” Sabé admits with a chuckle. Now that most of the tangles are out of her hair, Sabé is massaging her scalp with scented soaps. The combined smell and feel of it makes Rey want to fall asleep, but she has to stay alert. The pampering serves a purpose. She still has to find the queen and all. 

“Well, what’s winning so far?"

“That you were sent to spy in Esstran, see if they were conspiring to act against the treaty.”  

“That’s _ridiculous_ ,” Rey sputters, exasperated just by the mere suggestion. “For one, the nobles would recognize me so I would be of no good as a spy.”

Sabé just shrugs. “Well, if you’re on a reconnaissance mission, you would make it such that you wouldn’t get recognized. We just assumed it could be one of your skills as a Rebel.”

“I wish it was. How useful that could be, putting on a different face and living a life different from the one I have now.”

“What’s wrong with the life you live now, my lady captain? If it is not rude of me to ask, that is. I think you’re pretty lucky. You have the favor of the queen. You have a high station in Ileenium as a Rebel and war hero. You are engaged to a man who loves you and will surely provide for you for the rest of your life. You may have been orphaned in the past, but you are not short on family now or in the future.”  

 _A man who loves you._ She smiles at that. It’s been a while since she’s heard someone think of Kylo Ren that way in relation to her. Their time apart has led her to doubt if he still feels the same, if he does dream of her as he promised. She had refused to take off the necklace even while bathing, choosing to wash the grit off the stone with the rest of her skin. She could not be parted from it. Poe had told her then that he knew she liked Kylo Ren because she couldn’t stop fidgeting with the crystal. Her honest fear is that if she removes it, she would forget her own feelings.

“I suppose I should be more thankful, shouldn’t I?” Rey says softly. “Sometimes I get stuck in thought with tragedies past that I forget I still owe the world my present graces.”

She rises from the bath and accepts the towel being handed to her to dry herself. Sabé returns with a dress that feels familiar, though it is made of entirely new fabric. She recognizes the cut, the design – it had been based off the dress she had asked to be made a long time ago; the one she had lugged along with her in the war. She had worn it on her very first wedding with Finn; and on the night she had met Kylo Ren.   

“The queen had a few of these commissioned for your return, my lady. She said she liked the ingenuity of yours.”

 _It’s amazing,_ Rey thinks as she runs her hands over the wears. It’s another thing she ought to be grateful for. And it actually looks agreeable and suited for her, for something of the queen’s choosing. The one Sabé has brought out is a light pink color, a nice and vibrant change from the muted grays of her clothes while traveling. Her boots have been taken away for cleaning, so she has sandals – also new – on her feet instead. She places her pendant above the fabric this time, no need to hide it away from the light.

When she looks in the mirror, it’s an entirely different person staring back at her. Luke had kept a mirror in his hut just to make sure he maintained his beard properly. It had been a slight vanity he afforded for himself. Rey had never been one to keep up appearances, so she hadn’t bothered with looking at herself much while on the island; but this time she has to look while Sabé fixes her up. She notices she has tanned a bit, her skin glowing in a way it hadn’t in over a year, ever since she came back to D’Qar after the war. Her face has been sun-kissed, with freckles more prominently scattered across her cheeks from all the exposure. The bags beneath her eyes are entirely new, just from traveling back; she had been more than well-rested while on the island. Her hair has grown a little, and she should have it cut back to its comfortable length sooner than later. 

There is something _off_ about her. Like she isn’t herself – but she _is_. There is something that feels different, not just physically, but she doesn’t know what it could be.

“There is a lightness in you,” Sabé whispers to her as the handmaiden pulls her hair up into a high and tight bun. “You used to act much more solemnly, with a heavy weight on your shoulders. It is as though you came back carrying nothing.”

Her reflection shines in the low light of the room, eyes bright and smiling in agreement. _Yes,_ Rey has found her answer: _that must be it._

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Lady Kaydel Ko Connix is one of the most beautiful daughters of the regional representatives of Ileenium. Her golden hair is the envy of many, Rey not excluded. Lady Connix has been courted by many back in her home region of Alderaan for her prettiness, but her father had instead volunteered her to be a bride of the nobles from Esstran; somehow ending up with Lord Hux. Rey chortles at the thought of their children if they bore any from their union. What colorful hair they would have.

“Is something the matter, Captain Rey?” The lady asks her as she steps out of the queen’s throne room. Rey infers they had been discussing details of the lady’s upcoming ceremony. Lord Hux had been eager to marry since he had been nominated to be the next Supreme Leader of the noble houses in Esstran, thus making poor Lady Connix the first offering of their kingdom to satisfy the treaty. “Never mind that. I have to go, so anyway, you may come in to meet with the queen now.”

“Thank you,” Rey says out of courtesy. “And I wish you the best, Lady Connix. Please let me know if you need any additional help in your wedding preparations.”

“Thank you as well, Captain,” the lady replies, “I will keep that in mind.”

Lady Connix stalks off, the heels of her shoes clicking as she goes. Rey stares until the other woman rounds the corner, noting her gait. She could be a princess; she already acts like one. Lord Hux would be lucky – _is_ lucky to have gotten paired off with someone already willing to bear the responsibilities of nobility. Meanwhile, Rey is still wondering if she could actually be Kylo Ren’s match. Queen Leia – his own mother – certainly thinks so, but she isn’t actually sure if she _can_ handle the life that would follow.

Inside, Queen Leia awaits, so Rey pushes aside the thoughts of her potential future for the important concerns of the present. She has to report to Leia to let the queen know that she had found Luke Skywalker.

“Rey?” Leia rises from her high seat on the dais as the Rebel enters, mild surprise on her matronly face. She comes down to meet the young captain in the middle of the large room and pulls Rey into a warm hug. “I am glad for your safe return.”

When they pull away from one another, there is a question in the queen’s old eyes. Her eyes crinkle and her lips draw into a tight, thin smile. She may be relieved that Rey is back in one piece, but she is still concerned. Rey understands all of this, knows just how fragile the monarch’s heart is when it comes to her family.

“I found him,” Rey says, “I found your brother, my queen. You don’t have to worry yourself anymore. He’s okay.”

“Oh, thank the stars.” Leia leans in slightly, as though her knees have weakened from hearing the news. Rey can hear her holding back sobs, how there is a choked sound in between her breaths. She is overwhelmed with emotion – and Rey is once more humbled at how the most powerful woman in Ileenium stands comfortably vulnerable, how she allows herself to be seen like that. “I _knew_ it. I knew Luke was still out there.”

“He was alone on that island, Ahch-To,” the captain further explains, “it was a lovely place. He had all of these books with him, and he still kept routines – meditation, prayer; sword forms, even. He was doing fine there, my queen, I promise.”                                                                                                                                                  

“And now? Now, where is he?”

“He… He didn’t come with me back to D’Qar. I must confess, I had already found him on the very first week of my journey. It was a while before he even acknowledged the letter you had written for him. It was also my fault that I hadn’t been so persistent, being caught up instead in his teachings.” She couldn’t look Leia in the eyes as she speaks because she knows just how selfishly she had acted in Ahch-To, choosing her own interest and sudden hunger for knowledge that only Luke could provide over Leia’s stretched-out patience and concern for locating Luke. “When the time came for me to return for the preparations here in D’Qar, Luke still was uncertain about coming back; but I convinced him eventually, so he promised to follow and meet with you soon, my queen, right after he handles his affairs.”

Leia breathes out a deep sigh of relief. “That’s better than I could have expected. I had thought you would return with no news at all, that the intelligence was all wrong.”

“The ghost of Old Luke turned out to be not a ghost at all. At least now we know the seafarers hadn’t been disillusioned by all the saltwater.”

The queen smiles – _genuinely_ smiles. It isn’t the way her lips turn up when she is forced to greet dignitaries, her diplomatic façade. At the moment, she isn’t the Queen, but just a woman. It is as though she could pass on now, content with knowing that she still has some family with her: her son and her brother. They are both alive and doing well for themselves and that’s more than enough for her.

“Oh!” Rey says, remembering. She pulls back the skirt of her dress to reveal the belt where her scabbard hung and draws out the sword Luke had entrusted her with. It is much cleaner now, having tended to its restoration while she had still been in Naboo. “Luke gave me this—”

“It belonged to Anakin Skywalker,” Leia states, staring at the bejeweled hilt. Her face turns blank, unreadable to Rey. “We thought it was lost years, decades ago. How did it end up with Luke?”

“He didn’t tell me how, your majesty, but please, take it.” Rey gets down on her knees before the queen, offering up the sword on her palms. It isn’t just a weapon, but an artifact, a remnant of the man who had been Leia’s father – no matter her objection to calling him that. It belonged to someone who had been part of the royal family as the king consort of Padmé Amidala, thus it belongs in the vaults of the crown. “Luke handed it to me in hopes of it seeing better days, as he said, but I already have my own, and I don’t think I deserve to wield something so valuable—”

“I can assume Luke has already told you how I feel about Darth Vader. Unlike Luke, I cannot separate the husband of Padmé from the hound of Palpatine. To be frank, I cannot care less what happens to his possessions.” Leia sighs again, this time, however, it is heavy. “Rise, Rey. You are more than deserving to have it as a captain of the Rebels. Also, Luke deemed you worthy to carry it back to D’Qar. That means something. I may not agree with my brother when it comes to the man Anakin Skywalker had been at the end, but I cannot deny that he did the kingdom some good with that sword in your hands before he chose to serve the emperor. _You_ can do good with it, Rey. I trust it in your hands.”

Had that been an order or suggestion? Rey isn’t sure, but she cannot refuse the queen either way.  She gets back on her feet and bows slightly, holding the sword at her side. She replaces the sword in its sheath and adjusts her skirts once more.

“Thank you, my queen, for such a compliment. I will do my best with Anakin’s sword. Also, thank you for this dress and the others, too.”

“Think of it as nothing. It’s the least I can do, especially after all you’ve done for my family.” Leia cups Rey’s face in both of her hands. They are notably soft and warm to the young captain, making Rey embarrassed of her own calloused ones. “And you don’t have to be all formal with me anymore when we are in private, Rey. Feel free to call me Mother – that is, if you are fine with the idea. I certainly wouldn’t mind.”

 _Oh_. She had been thinking about that earlier, hadn’t she? They would have inevitably brought it up at one point or another, though Rey had thought that point would have come much later – or even better, never at all because of just how mortifying it is. Calling Queen Leia something as personal as _Mother_ is – it’s just _improper_. Even if it is just between the two of them, it still wouldn’t feel right, no matter how technically true the term is.

Leia’s chuckles bring her out of her thoughts. The queen knows how uncomfortable she is at the proposition; she had easily given herself away with the lack of eye contact and the blush of her cheeks.

“The choice to call me that is yours. You don’t have to make that decision now.” There is that twinkle in Leia’s brown eyes that has a striking resemblance to the shine in Luke’s blue ones when he tries to kid around. “I just want you to know that I think of you as family now, Rey; and I hope you will see me as such, too.”

Drawn into the arms of the matron, Rey finds herself tearing up. She hadn’t expected any of this, that she would find a family and be more than okay with it – not since Finn had left her anyway. After the war, she had resigned herself to a life of misery, of being perpetually bound to her duty, but she no longer sees life that way. She had believed only vengeance could free her from the heaviness of her heart, but the man she had once sworn to kill is now the man she is sworn to. It is strange how the fates worked to bring her to where she is now.

And where she is now is _home_.

 

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The streets of D’Qar are alive – more so than usual. Banners have been set up, posted in front of shops and stalls. Colorful streamers hang atop people, connecting structures with miniature flags of both Ileenium and Esstran. Free spaces have been turned into areas for games, with children running about, carrying won prizes back to their homes. Food carts have sprung up on every corner, the others with their usual fair; but some have come to sell delicacies from Esstran which are prepared for occasions such as this.

A _wedding_. Rey sees all the festivity and takes the sight in. The crown hadn’t allowed for a celebration of this scale since the end of the war because the kingdom had still been trying to recover some resources, but now they are managing better than before. There is no excuse to let people have their merriment over what is supposed to be a good thing to their kingdom: a wedding.

The ceremony itself will happen the day after the nobles of Esstran arrive, which is still about three to four days away, depending on how permitting the weather will be for their travels; but the queen has already announced that the celebrations begin, just to have the atmosphere already there when the nobles come. It will greatly help ease the tension of them entering the kingdom once more, as there exists the few who oppose the terms of the treaty. Not that there is anything they can do about it anyway. Still, the queen just wants to be sure that nothing like the attack on Kylo Ren back in the first welcoming ball will happen again.

That’s why Rey and Poe are both out wandering the streets – not to join in on all the fun, but to patrol and make sure individuals aren’t conducting suspicious activities. At least that’s what they should be doing. Poe keeps getting distracted, wanting to try all the food that isn’t locally made. He’s already over-indulging, and Rey takes a mental note to remind him to lead the daily exercises tomorrow.

“So,” Poe starts after he’s bitten into the bun in his hand, “are you ready?”

“For what?”

“To see your second-favorite guy again.”

“Kylo Ren? Who’s the first?”

“Why, me, of course,” he says matter-of-factly, taking another portion into his mouth, grinning in delight as he does. “You’ve got to try this, Rey. Let’s turn back around for it. They’ve put some smoked meat or something, mixed it in with this sweet sauce, and put it in soft bread—”

“Poe,” Rey berates him. Unlike her co-captain, Rey is actually trying to do the task ordered of them. “Focus, please.”

They round a corner and there’s even more new food to try out. Poe is salivating, already picking out which one to try first, but Rey’s eyes are slits that act just as effectively as a leash and a collar around his neck.

“Okay, okay,” Poe acquiesces and he stops trying to drag her to every stall serving something he doesn’t recognize. “You know, I still can’t believe you met Luke Skywalker. I can’t imagine what he looks like now.”

The queen had finally allowed her to tell Poe of the mission because it would have been difficult to find another reason as to why she would be carrying around a sword which bore the cloudy motif of the Skywalkers. Anyone with a certain level of education with the history of the kingdom would know whose sword it was – and Poe, being a Rebel, would have figured it out. Telling him would also help them expect Luke’s return, so they agreed that it is better he knows now than later.

“He’s old,” is Rey’s simple reply.

“You’d think people like him would live forever. Hero of Ileenium and all that.”

“They do, in a way.” No one would forget Luke Skywalker, the humble farm boy turned scholar turned war hero; the man who refused his right to a crown. His name has already been written down in history from the moment he was born. More importantly, his name is told in stories in houses. He would never die so long as people passed on the story of his life that is meant to inspire.

“I wonder how I’ll be remembered as,” Poe ruminates out loud as they pass through another group of children. The young ones are running towards something at the end of the road. There will be a show at the public square, someone announces, by actors and entertainers hailing from Esstran. He looks at her once with an expression that can only be inviting, an unspoken _let’s go_ in the brown of his eyes.

The two captains walk along with the people also heading to the plaza, taking a steady pace unlike the others who are eager to be at the front of the platform. Luckily for them, there is a Rebel checkpoint in the area, and they have the privilege of rank to displace the other Rebels who had the same idea as them. They climb to the open upper deck, careful not to strike the bell as it could lead to a false alarm, and the heightened area provides them with a full though angled view of the stage.

“You’d be remembered as the most dashing captain, I’m sure,” Rey mutters with fondness, ruffling Poe’s hair as they wait for the show to start. “About fifty years from now, some poor guy will walk upstairs to look at the portraits and find yours, and he’ll wonder how someone so handsome could have died.”

“I would have died happy,” Poe retorts, “surrounded by at least twenty of my grandchildren.”

A hush sweeps over the crowd, signaling that the performance is about to begin. The curtains at the back of the podium part to reveal a man, the head of the troupe, and the people applause at his presence, even when he’s said nothing yet. They eventually quiet down, and so he begins his declamation:

“Welcome, welcome! Thank you for the kind welcome! We have traveled to your lovely kingdom to join in the celebrations for the sons and daughters of our respective kingdoms shall soon be joined in marriage. After years of war, we can finally look forward to having a more permanent peace from the unions to come!”

There are cheers and claps from his words, people being optimistic about what the matches could mean for the two kingdoms. It lightens Rey’s heart, knowing that the people see good in it; that her own union affects more than just her. Poe walks over to the small ladder and peeks his head down. Rey vaguely hears him instructing other Rebels also watching below to stay attentive, especially with such a large number of people gathered in a small area.

“But what do we common folk know about the matches anyway? What do we know when they have been decided behind the walls of your castle?” He challenges the crowd. “We may not know all, but we have heard one. And now we shall bring to you the story of a certain beloved captain of the fiercest warriors of your land, the Rebels, who has been paired off with the feared master of the Knights of Ren!”

Rey _chokes._ Poe, who is standing beside her once more, guffaws in such an ugly manner that doesn’t match his appearance at all. She tries to elbow him but he catches her arm just before it could meet his gut.

“This—” He is still chortling, “oh, this is going to be hilarious, isn’t it?”

The man disappears behind the curtains and a line of finely dressed women and men come out in his place, dancing and spinning about to suggest a formal gathering – a _ball_. Rey’s stomach pools with dread. She’s self-conscious, being aware of her own state of mind during the actual event of their meeting. They don’t know, surely; the performers don’t know what had been going on in her head. No one does.

“Hey,” Poe reassures soothingly, seeing her sudden distress. “It’s just a silly show to uplift the people’s spirits, to keep them happy about the whole affair. Don’t stress yourself over the inaccuracy of their portrayal.”

 _It’s just a silly show,_ Rey repeats to herself. It does quell some of her uneasiness and she finds herself relaxing to the sound of music. It had been this song, this dance…

One actor is creeping at the front of the stage, taking large and sinister strides. He draws up a finger to his lips, a sign for the crowd to be quiet, and then he draws out a large knife. She hears some of the audience gasp loudly in reaction to the weapon, mostly children. Then the man turns his back on the crowd and leaps, pounces onto the back of another actor – the tallest man in the troupe, one wearing a ridiculously thick black wig. _Kylo Ren_. Now Rey is the one chuckling, though it is inadequate as the moment they’re portraying is meant to be tense. 

“See,” Poe comments again, “I told you it’s silly. They didn’t even get your dress right. Your double’s sword is outside the skirts.”

“You saved me!” The actor playing Kylo Ren throws himself at feet of the girl playing Rey and kisses the ground she stands on. He rises slightly to kneel and a chorus of _oohs_ ring out through the crowd. “I owe you my life, my lady! Will you have it?”

The actress who is meant to be Rey has hair lighter than the actual shade and she is also slighter, making the gap of the height between her and their Kylo Ren even more prominent. _I’m not that small_ , Rey thinks, affronted.

Her double is standing straight, looking down at the still-kneeling Ren before shouting _no_ for the crowds to hear and exiting the stage through the curtains. They begin to mutter to themselves, stipulating why Rey had refused Kylo Ren. Watching the events unfold through a different perspective is entertaining. Strange, how the story that’s come to the people is skewed. 

“There’s already a play about you,” Poe says as he brings out a second bun of what he had been eating earlier from his pockets. “You’re the one already being written down in history, Rey. You’ll be remembered.”

“As a woman married off to nobility by her kingdom to fulfill a treaty.”

“No, as a Rebel who wanted to provide peace for her kingdom in another way.” Poe throws one arm around her shoulders to pull her closer. “And they’ll wonder how you even became a Rebel in the first place. They’ll find a way to learn about you. They’ll see what you have done for the kingdom in the war and that you came from humble beginnings as well. Who knows, maybe you’ll even be the next Luke Skywalker. Imagine that, Rey of the Rebels – Heroine of Ileenium.”

 

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There’s still some daylight outside by the time they return to the Rebel estate. It had been sizzling outside with no clouds in the sky to block it and little wind to cool them.  That, and the sheer number of bodies out in the streets all clumped together made the city even warmer. Rey feels sticky, drenched in her own sweat. The bath on the uppermost floor is always full and all she wants to do now is to lay in the cold water.

“Welcome back, Captains!” They are greeted at the front door by new recruits who still haven’t undergone tests to be properly initiated. Rey doesn’t have their names quite down yet as Poe had taken them in while she had been away. The group bursts into giggles as they turn to salute Rey.

“Is something the matter?”

“Nothing!” One cries, quick to answer. “Just that Captain Poe has something on his chin, Captain.”

“Oh?” Poe wipes his face with his kerchief and there is a reddish-brown sauce that comes off. “So there is!”

Rey rolls her eyes, moving on to her quarters before she hears Poe explain the contents of his new favorite food to the present recruits. They had turned back to find the specific stall with the buns and he bought an entire box for himself to take back to the estate. She’ll probably steal one to see what he’s raving about, having refused his offers to buy with him and try it out of annoyance.

First, she takes off her hooded coat. Followed by her boots, socks, pants and blouse. She is stripped down, save for her innermost wear, almost ready to bathe. She turns to the line of nails on the wall and finds her towel isn’t hanging where it’s supposed to be. _Huh_. Had she misplaced it? Had someone mistakenly taken it for cleaning? Left it in the bath, perhaps? She takes her robe and wraps it around herself for cover and stalks to the end of the hall, throws open the door and—

Is she _dreaming?_ Kylo Ren is there in front of her, with her towel wrapped around his waist. On his torso is _nothing_ but beads of water glistening over his muscular chest, dripping down from his damp hair. She had known he was strong and fit, but she hadn’t expected him to be built this way beneath the layers of clothes he wears.

Rey stutters at first but finally draws in some dignity to look him in the eyes instead. He’s amused by her and his mere expression is enough to forget how she’s missed him and instead she focuses on how infuriated she is. Who does he think he is? The Rebel estate is her territory. He shouldn’t be able to make her uncomfortable here.

What does she call him anyway? Kylo Ren or Ben Solo?

“ _You_ ,” she settles with that, knitting her brows together, ready to be fully cross with him; but then he draws her into his arms, pushes her face into his chest as he cradles the back of her neck in one palm. His skin is cool from his bath and she feels him shake with laughter.

“Me,” he agrees, placing his lips below her hairline. He's mumbling but somehow his words are clear, “Welcome home, Rey.”

 

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	14. Ceremonials

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, hasn't it? I know I say this all the time, but thank you so much for your patience. Life's been unkind to me lately, so it's been difficult to write anything, but this week I found some strength to finally write out and finish this chapter. If you're interested in knowing what it was that kept me from writing, I explained more in the end notes.
> 
> Anyways, I don't want to keep you from this story any more than I have. And just a head's up, this is the longest chapter I've written so far. Brace yourselves. ;)
> 
> The last part of this chapter had been set to [Transatlanticism by Death Cab for Cutie](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-3b6hDCIeDk) and [You and I (Stripped) by Pvris](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=olaqthsSRpA). Please check those songs out if you want to set the tone for this chapter while reading. Hihi.
> 
> Enjoy! :)

 

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Last year, if anyone had told Rey that she would be walking beside Kylo Ren in the streets of D’Qar for any reason other than to deliver him to his death, she probably would have laughed it off and regarded that person as delusional. And perhaps that’s what makes this moment all the more special to her now – because it couldn’t have possibly been forewarned. Where once there was only vengeance and the thirst for blood, there is now a lightness, a warm feeling as she settles into contentment with his presence.

The entire city of D’Qar has progressively gotten busier as the date of the arrival of the nobles from Esstran draws near – _it’s already today_ , Rey reminds herself. Their party is set to arrive in the city later today, rest for the night, and then hold the ceremony between Lord Hux and Lady Connix tomorrow. She only really has a few more hours to spend with Kylo Ren before they both have to attend to their duties – with her being part of the Rebels to oversee the security of the event and with him joining the rest of the nobles as they greet the queen. And while she does have the choice to be part of the occasion as part of the volunteer pool – no, as a _future bride_ of Esstran – she doesn’t want to shirk her responsibilities as a Rebel any more than she already has.

Not that the Rebels make it hard for her because she’s more than aware of how they’re conspiring behind her back to get her to spend more time with him. For the past week, he’s been part of her scheduled rounds and they’ve even asked him to assist in sparring sessions – and seeing him fight the Rebels had her remembering her own duel with him. The memory had felt like it had been dredged up from another lifetime entirely. How things have changed so quickly between the two of them since they were reunited; it’s almost as if they hadn’t been separated for weeks and were together the whole time.

“You’re looking at me strangely,” Kylo Ren says, and she quirks a brow at his accusation. “Again. Is there something on me?”

“I wasn’t even looking your way this time,” she scoffs. “And I don’t have the time to spare to throw you glances. We have to be on the lookout for delinquents and stuff, Ren.”

He hums in response. “I wasn’t made aware of that agenda. You mean to say I’ve been wasting my whole morning watching you?”

And _oh_ – that’s another thing. He loves to get her flustered, especially when there are other Rebels watching. She’s come to learn that he enjoys pulling off some theatrics in order to embarrass her. And since he easily comes off as passionate and somber, it’s a good reminder that he still has lightheartedness about him – even if it comes at her expense.

“You’ve been briefed on why the Rebels do routine walks around the city these past two weeks. And I didn’t know you thought of me as such a sore sight that you would it’s a waste to watch me.”

“You know that wasn’t what I meant,” he laughs because she thinks her annoyance with him isn’t genuine, but it _is_. She stops walking and he follows suit, moving to the side of the road where they wouldn’t be in the way of the moving masses in the midst of their festivities. She adores him, she’s past the point of denying her own affection for him; but if he thinks he can derail her from her duty as a Rebel with his attempts at flirting, then he is greatly mistaken. He continues, sounding slightly exasperated himself, “Loosen up a bit, will you? You’ve been acting tense since we left the estate.”

“Maybe I’m tense because I have to be, Ren! Your people are arriving _today_ , and it’s still under my responsibility as a Rebel to make sure nothing happens to anyone.”

“Nothing’s going to happen, Rey. They have their own escorts from the militaries of both kingdoms. If something does happen, they can handle it. And look around you – people are celebrating the upcoming union, partaking in all the fun. They’re _happy_.”

“They’re happy because we ensure their safety that enables their merriment. They wouldn’t be like this if someone suddenly started a fire in the center of the city while everyone else is busy celebrating – and someone already attempted yesterday because he thought that’s when the nobles would arrive.”

“Someone did?” Kylo Ren sounds just as surprised as she had been when she found out. “I was at the estate with you yesterday; how come I hadn’t heard of this?”

“We kept it a secret because we don’t want anyone getting ideas all of a sudden.”

There’s also the fact that they have Rebels running covert missions to track down and preemptively stop those organizing together to protest against the fulfillment of the treaty provisions, but of course they wouldn’t ever disclose this to someone from Esstran; even more so that the one they have as a guest is one of its nobles – and her betrothed, of all things – making him a prime target – _again_.

“Well,” he finally acquiesces, “I guess you do have to be on the lookout.”

Rey huffs and rolls her eyes, disbelieving that it takes her telling him of the almost-fire that happened yesterday for him to listen. For the past week, he’s been more than respectful of his boundaries in the estate, especially when she has work to attend to – but today, this morning, he’s been a bit more aggressive with claiming her time. Which is understandable because he has to leave and stay at the castle starting tonight; and while they haven’t been staying in the same room at the estate – she had been adamantly against it because she didn’t want any more cause for the others to be distracted by his presence – they’ve been mostly spending their time with each other. He isn’t saying anything out loud, but he’s obviously anxious to be separated once more, and she does find it _cute_ , really.

“Alright,” Rey says, giving him a weary smile. She doesn’t want to spend the rest of their time together annoyed with him, and they still have about six or seven blocks to scout before they return to the estate to prepare for his leave. “Shall we carry on, then?”

He smiles back at her with that rare smile he reserves just for her when they are alone – and they aren’t, not in the crowded streets, but it could feel like they are with the way he looks at her. He moves to come closer, bends down and places his lips over her hairline; and she almost giggles from the sensation when he hums over her skin and tells her, “Let’s go.”

 

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The longest line of horse-drawn carriages Rey has ever seen comes through the castle gates and already she is dreading how she has to stand by and greet everyone that comes down. Not that she has any right to complain because both Poe and Queen Leia, as well as the rest of her royal entourage, are there with her at the main doors. The diplomatic aspect of being a Rebel isn’t exactly her strongest suit and she can think of at least four other things she would rather be doing if given a choice in the matter.

She’d try to converse with Poe, who would surely have a story to entertain her, but he’s all the way on the other side of Leia, ever her right-hand man, ready with a grin so charming it could be on a portrait and easily called a masterpiece. He catches on to her glance and he throws her a friendly wave. She doesn’t know who else he’s trying to impress, but it’s hilarious how he’s far too obvious when he’s sucking up to Leia anyway.

The first carriage comes to a stop in front of them and its respective footman rushes to the side of the carriage to unfold the step and open the door for its occupant. Lord Hux steps out, looking irate and in need of a nice bath, a decent meal and a comfortable bed to rest in, but overall not exactly worse for wear. She knows how ragged she’d appear after travelling for more than a week, given how limited the speed of carriages can be. Still, it’s impressive how he maintains a clean look and air about him – even with the funny beard grown out.

They anticipate the queen’s motions, bowing in acknowledgement of the lord’s arrival simultaneously when the queen does. Lord Hux regards them warily, not even bothering to appear pleasant. He’s as stiff as Rey remembers him, and somehow it’s oddly comforting that she can at least predict his character to be the same as she had known it to be months ago.

An escort is ready to lead Lord Hux to his room, and the next carriage is already pulling up in front of them, but still, he stops to converse – with Rey, specifically.

“Captain Rey,” he addresses her with a curt nod, and only then does he show a semblance of a smirk. “Did you have a nice week in D’Qar?”

Leia hears this exchange and looks at them, curious. He didn’t even speak to greet the queen and now he’s talking to Rey, which is a complete disregard of the hierarchy of their statuses and disrespectful. Now, though, Leia’s eyes are on her because the queen wants to see how she handles herself; and _of course_ Hux has to put her in this position. Outside of Kylo Ren’s staff, he’s the only noble who knows Kylo Ren arrived in Ileenium earlier than the others to spend time with her – and he also knows that Leia doesn’t know this.

“I did, in fact, my lord,” Rey answers him with a practiced smile. She has the urge to smack the smug look off of his face – the same way Kylo Ren had when they were both last here – but that is far from the way she’s supposed to respond. He’s also the one getting married tomorrow, so it wouldn’t do anyone any good if she were to make the groom look any less handsome or appealing to his bride and to the witnesses of their union than he ought to be. “How about you: did your travels go smoothly? Nothing bad happened along the way, I hope.”

“Since we’ve cleared the routes of the bandits that had plagued it after the war, I would say it was a pleasant trip.” It’s a humble brag as Leia is still listening to them, but when the queen turns away to greet the next arriving emissary, Hux’s expression sours, showing just how much disdain he presently holds for her – which isn’t unwarranted, exactly; she can imagine how much trouble it had to have been to keep Kylo Ren’s early departure from Esstran a secret from the other nobles. His voice dips in a lower timbre, almost in a threatening way, when he says, “Remind Ren of his debt to me, will you, Captain?”

Lord Hux proceeds to stalk off into the castle, with the handmaiden assigned to escort him to his room being the one to scurry after him. The other noble who had gotten off after Hux passes her as he enters through the doors, too. Poe, who had also curiously watched the interaction, transfers to her side before the next carriage stops in front of them, and waits to finish their customary greeting to the person arriving before speaking to her.

“What was that about?”

“Lord Hux is just being himself,” Rey explains, voice quieted down so as not to be heard by Leia and the others. “He thinks he can intimidate me just like that.”

“Well, the guy did just spend more than a week on the road and he _is_ getting married tomorrow.”

“Since when did that become an excuse for acting all high and mighty?”

“It could also be that he’s going to be declared Supreme Leader when he returns to Esstran with Lady Connix as his new wife. He’s probably feeling the pressure and now he’s just taking it out on everyone else.” Poe shrugs but straightens his posture once another noblewoman steps down her carriage. After she’s gone inside and they wait for the next one, he continues, “At least this time he doesn’t have to kill anyone else to get that title.”

Rey suppresses the shudder that runs through her spine. It still horrifies her to think about it – how a young bastard boy had to _kill_ his own half-brother in order to be named the heir to the house of Hux. When Ren had first told her about it, she had been appalled; but not entirely surprised. The Esstran customs respect power more than blood. It doesn’t matter if you are the son of a lord’s wife, of his whore, or no one’s son at all. In Esstran, you take what you want with your own hands, unminding of the blood spilled in the process.

The next carriage in the too long line stops and the two captains stand to attention. A footman rushes to the side, but the door is opened from the inside by its occupant instead, leaving the footman dumbfounded. Kylo Ren practically jumps the small elevation instead of stepping off like everyone else. His steps towards the Queen's party are rushed and after he bows in greeting, he looks breathless – like his energy is unbound, as though he couldn’t wait to be here.

“Your highness,” he says to the queen first, and then turns to Poe and Rey who are still standing next to each other. He chooses to acknowledge Poe first, “Captain.”

“Lord Ren.” Poe is stifling a chuckle because he has to pretend that he hasn’t seen the noble iand that the said noble hasn’t been living in the Rebel estate for the past week. “Welcome back to D’Qar.”

“It’s good to be back,” Kylo Ren replies before looking to her, coy in a way that is entirely too boyish. The sides of his mouth turn up, like the secret of his feelings would leap off his tongue if he were to even part his lips; but he opens them anyway, because he has to greet her, too, and his admiration is evident when he calls her, “My captain.”

“My lord,” Rey says, and this time the chuckle that passes through her own lips is genuine. They had agreed to put on a show for the queen, and Leia seems to be more than pleased that her son is getting along with the woman he chose, fought for. The queen breaks character and joins Rey in her amusement, though they are laughing for different reasons, and everyone is stunned by it – especially Kylo Ren. Rey watches him watch the matron, some recognition flitting in his eyes; and _oh_ , her heart bursts because he doesn’t know it’s his own mother he’s looking at. She’s been tempted to tell him so many times, too; but she agrees with Leia – it would make matters so much more complicated than they already are.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asks her, turning away from Leia. He’s thinking – she sees as much in the knot of his brow and how he worries his lip. “At the fête, yes?”

“I’ll be there,” she answers with a nod. He sighs in relief – like he had any reason to be unsure in the first place – and reaches out for her, hand in glove, squeezes once, lets her go, and finally allows himself to be led away from her and into the castle. When she turns back to face the next arriving noble, she counts how many more carriages they have to go – at least thirty more – and grumbles.

 

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None of the formal social gatherings Rey had previously attended could ever match the scale of preparation and detail put into this wedding. The plans had certainly appeared ambitious, and she had been reluctant to believe that they could transform the largest hall of the east wing of the castle into something entirely different – nothing short of extravagant. To see now that they have made the vision come true makes Rey feel guilt that she even doubted the Queen's designers.

The entire ceiling has been covered with flowers – violets, supposedly Lady Connix’s favorite – and with vines suspending from the arches. They had brought in stacks of moss-covered rocks with lilies tucked in between to line the aisle in which the procession of the bride and groom will take place. Another long column of potted plants are placed between the aisle and the rows of benches where the witnesses to the union will sit down, and the walls seemed to have disappeared into the overgrowth. At the end of the aisle, where Lord Hux and Lady Connix will stand underneath as they undergo the rites, they have set an arch made of thin wooden branches tied together with bouquets pinned and spaced apart. Candles hang above the hall, raised by the chandelier, but what illuminates the room and gives it an ethereal glow is the sunlight from outside, filtered by the trees in the garden and passing through the large windows making up an entire wall to cast light in the giant hall.

It’s like she has stepped into a dream; into somewhere else, somewhere not on this earth. Now it’s exciting to just imagine how the banquet hall at the west wing would look like, how they could have redefined the space for the fête after the ceremony. It’s definitely something to look forward to, but for now, she has to focus on the task ahead of her – that is, to oversee the security of the event within the castle with the rest of the Rebels.

Rey has stationed herself at the back, near the set of doors they hadn’t designated for use. Jessica Pava is the only other person in her area and she is also the only other volunteer not seated with the rest of the four-hundred guests. They’re both dressed differently, too: in more practical attire than whimsical dresses. Rey is in her crisp formal uniform, the left breast of her jacket adorned with the ribbons and medals from her service; while Jess is in a pantsuit as well, ready to run to an emergency, her tools all organized inside a case that is accessible to her.

“This is nice,” Jess comments, “and I don’t just mean what they did to the hall. I meant to say that being able to stand here separate from everyone else because we still have a duty to attend to is _nice_.”

“It is,” Rey agrees. It’s also a bonus that she isn’t being forced to interact with anyone because she can see that everyone’s been mixed together in the crowd and that the guests from Esstran are mingling with the representatives of Ileenium and vice versa. At least here at the back, she can enjoy some relative peace without being forced to do small talk, of all things.  

Being the first wedding that will satisfy the provisions of the treaty, the rites had been designed to incorporate traditions from both kingdoms – though leaving out some from Esstran, specifically the part where they’re supposed to run a knife through each other’s palms and promise to be prepared to bleed for one another. It had something to do with loyalty and devotion for them, but then the queen and the rest of her council had decided against it as the shedding of blood during a wedding could be inauspicious; especially as the whole affair is meant to bridge their two kingdoms after a war, after so much blood had already been spilled between them. So what remains in the rites are the prayers for blessing their union, the exchange of vows, the joint drinking of wine, the offerings of symbols of each other to one another, the signing of a contract noting all their obligations as written in the treaty, and then the declaration of their marriage.

And watching all of this takes her back to that hill, away from the din of war. Finn is there with her, and it is barely dawn and it smells of mildew, and she is in a dress she shouldn’t have brought out with her in the battlefield in the first place. He’s saying his vows, promising her a life after the war – but it is a life that never came to be. It is a life she lived out in dreams after his death. She’s back on the hill, but now she knows she will send him away after he kisses her, and that he will die when he leaves. She plays it all out again in her head, and again and again; she sees it all from the distance of years, the distance of her new feelings.

“Hey!” It takes Jess snapping her fingers in front of Rey’s eyes for the captain to come back down. “I thought something happened to you, like you were suddenly possessed. Don’t scare me like that, Rey.”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles half-heartedly, looking around her. She’s in the castle, in the hall decorated to appear like they’re outside in an enchanted forest of sorts; she’s _safe_. “I just… I remembered something.”

“Okay.” Jess doesn’t pry further and Rey is thankful for it. “As I was saying before you casually blanked on me, Rey, I’m conflicted. When I took my oath as a doctor, I promised to serve everyone, you know – wherever I go, whoever’s in need; but then the war changed that. When I saw how badly our soldiers were wounded and knew they left behind families, I swore to serve Ileenium for the rest of my life, to stay here and help those who were orphaned. And so far I’ve treated countless mothers who gave birth to children whose fathers died in the war. I’ve seen some of those babies grow a little, too.”

“Where is the conflict?”

“I’m considering moving to Esstran to be with Lady Phasma on a more permanent basis. Sort of similar to the arrangement between Lady Connix and Lord Hux because he’s going to become their Supreme Leader or whatever. There’s so much to learn in Esstran. For one, the wildflowers that grow only in their mountains could have potential medicinal effects, and I could be the one to study them. I could help more people that way.”

“What do you want me to say, Jess?”

“I don’t know! Honestly, I thought you would have an opinion because you understand better than the rest, how we’re duty-bound to our kingdom.”

Rey shrugs, as though the solution to Jess’s dilemma is simple enough. “If I leave Ileenium, I will no longer be a Rebel. Being one is my life here. But you, Jess, if you leave you’re still a doctor, and you already said so yourself. Wherever you go, you’re someone who can make a difference. Not everyone gets to say that about themselves.” When she sees Jess still mulling it over, she adds, “Well, if you love them enough to follow them all the way to Esstran, I think you should.”

“I do. I will,” Jess decides, breathing easier when she says it out loud. “Thank you, Rey.”

“No problem at all, my dear friend.”

“So it isn’t an issue for you, then? You will stay in Ileenium even after you’ve married Lord Ren?”

She had thought about it over the past week she spent with Kylo Ren. They hadn’t discussed any of the provisions during his stay at the estate, choosing to focus on the present and developing whatever bond they were beginning to share. They had blatantly chosen to ignore the future when together, but that didn’t mean Rey hadn’t thought about it by herself. The answer she’d always come to is – _yes._ She _will_ stay with the Rebels in Ileenium. She’s worked too hard and lost too much to let this part of her life go.

 

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She leaves the ceremony early in order to patrol the corridors, making sure the guests don’t wander off into areas restricted to them. That, and she also needs the time and space alone to _think_. She had gotten carried away for a moment, thinking about Finn all over again; and the pain of remembering has dulled, like a faded bruise, but that doesn’t mean it no longer hurt.

It guts and wrecks her. It makes her sick, how she had even imagined it while in the banquet hall – not of the hill, but of another ceremony, one that is expected to occur between her and Kylo Ren. How she had thought that neither of them would appreciate that much extravagance when – and not _if_ – they got married one day.

 _One day_. She had even thought of it as an inevitability. And she had believed she had slept off and cried away all the guilt of her betrayal to Finn over harboring feelings for Kylo Ren that aren’t as simple as contempt, but she is wrong. She is so, _so_ wrong, and it still _hurts_ because oh, how she _feels_ for him.

 

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It takes her some time to recompose herself, so she arrives at the fête late. The new hall all of the guests moved into for the reception of the wedding is even larger to make space for all of the socializing, and it’s been designed to mirror the other hall with draped vines and hanging bouquets lining the arches. The coming of night necessitated the lighting of hundreds of candles, illuminating the ballroom with its incandescence. The feast is still ongoing, with food being replenished every minute and handmaidens refilling cups of ale, mead and wine at a rate that makes them appear as though they are understaffed. Others have taken to the center of the room and started dancing along to the songs being played by the band – and it appears to be one from Esstran this time around.

At one end of the hall, Lord Hux and Lady Connix – or should she call her the new Lady Hux? – are seated next to the queen on a long banquet table. Poe is there, too, right next to Leia, and Rey knows she would be more than welcome to join them if she bothered to cross the throng of people to get there. She sees all the other Rebels going about, some of them interacting with the guests while others kept watch. It’s strange to be in a familiar place with enough familiar faces and yet feel like she doesn’t belong.

She’s half-tempted to turn and run, tell another Rebel that she’ll take another shift going around the castle instead, but then she feels a weight settle on her shoulder and as soon as she spots dark leather of a glove, she knows who it is that’s graced her with his presence.

“Rey,” he calls her, and his concern for her is painted all over his face. He’s just not any good at masking his emotions. “Are you alright? Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you since the start of the fête.”

To tell him that she had been emoting in the gardens would mean opening up an entire bottle of truths meant for him. There will be a time and place for that – maybe, one day, but not today. Definitely not on a day meant for revelry, for the beginning of what should be a lasting peace between their kingdoms. So instead she says, “I was just going around the castle. You know, making sure no one is doing unnecessary snooping.”

“Well, that doesn’t explain why you look upset.”

“I look upset?”

“You look bothered by something, at the very least.”                                                                                

“Just overwhelmed by everything and everyone, I suppose,” she says, and it isn’t dishonest. “It’s been quite the day.”

“So it has,” he agrees, sliding his hand down from the padded shoulder of her jacket to her sleeve and then taking hold of her bare hand. He lifts it up and plants his lips upon her knuckles. When he does, she feels herself relax into his touch, her posture loosening as she breathes out. “Is there anything I can do for you now? Get you some wine? Dance with you?”

Rey actually snorts at his suggestion. “ _Dance?_ You want to _dance_ with me?”

He shrugs. “If it’ll make you happy.”

“I’m not unhappy.”

“Neither am I.” He squeezes her hand, like he tends to do when he’s unsure and needs her reassurance, when he wants to say something else but doesn’t know how to find the words and so instead he hopes that the gesture is enough for her to understand. Funny how she’s picked up so much of his ways and mannerisms from just this week together.

She takes him up on his offer before he can take it back – and he looks like he regrets even bringing it up now. Despite his disinclination, he stands firm and takes her to where the people are dancing just as the band picks up on a new song, much slower than the one before. They stand to the side, a good distance away from the others, and fall into the thrum of the music – moving along, shifting their steps, swaying side to side while holding each other closer than they should. She leans into him, letting her head drop onto his shoulder, finding comfort in his solid form. The lack of space between them could be seen as shameless, but neither of them could be bothered to care about propriety. All of the world has narrowed down to the two of them – the steady hum of his breaths beneath her cheek, the fingers playing with his sleeve, the warmth of their bodies pressed against each other.

For a moment, she is the most content she’s ever been; but then it happens all over again – she’s taken back to a different time, a different place, a different dance, a different pair of arms holding her close. When she looks back up, it’s somehow Finn she sees staring back at her; and the vision throws her off so much that she jerks away from Kylo Ren, pushing him away with a force that astonishes them both.

“Rey—?”

“I’m sorry, I —”

She doesn’t even get to finish explaining herself, because a beat resounds through the hall, demanding silence from its occupants. Everyone turns their attention to the doors, where a military guard stands, standing ready to announce the arrival of someone important. Rey is confused by the necessity of the announcement, glaring as she tries to see past the heads blocking her line of sight. They would only do this for royalty, but the queen is already here, so who could it be? Another member of the First Order?

“The Hero of Ileenium, Prince Luke Skywalker!”

The gathering is stunned into silence and turns tense in anticipation, no murmurs exchanged as everyone awaits Luke’s entry. There is no one here who doesn’t know of the legend that accompanies his name. Rey herself doesn’t know how to react; the arrival of her mentor is something she had expected to happen soon enough, but she hadn't known he would come _today_. The moment he steps through the door, that’s when the crowd begins to buzz with excitement over the arrival of the rogue royalty.

Luke has been dressed and groomed for the occasion, with his attire far from the rags he passed off as clothes back on the island of Ahch-To. His gait is also different – now he stands more proudly, with confidence that fit someone who had the title of _Prince_. She almost doesn’t recognize him.

And speaking of recognition – she sees Kylo Ren is scrutinizing Luke, too; but there is something different in the way he does. There’s a lost look in his eyes, a glazed quality to it, and she had seen the same perplexity on his face before. It’s the same way he looked at Leia when she had begun laughing yesterday. And of Leia – she turns to see the Queen's reaction and Leia is just about ready to burst into tears, though mirthful. She smiles, too, and a tear manages to slip through her. Rey’s happy that Luke is here, and that Leia can finally be reunited with both her brother and her son.

But when she looks back, Kylo Ren is no longer at her side.

 

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Despite the supposed full state of occupancy of the guest rooms in the castle, Rey has been spared one for the night because Leia suddenly announced that all of the other pairs with impending marriages will formally meet in the morning for tea. Rather than sending her back to the Rebel estate, Leia had asked for Rey to stay behind so that she could be easily attended to, dressed and styled, as soon as she woke up. And of course, Rey couldn’t deny any of the Queen's requests, especially not when she had looked so elated to have seen her brother again after so many years.

Except the queen's son had to run off when Luke arrived. Rey is still worried about him, but not as much. She had inquired with the guards at the gate when she had seen some guests off, asked if he had left the castle grounds; but he hasn’t. He’s just here, somewhere. He could be troubled with his thoughts at this very moment, but since he’s gone off by himself, he probably just wants to be alone. She has faith that she’ll see him again come morning anyway.

It gnaws at her how she had probably made him feel bad when she pushed him away during their dance. She hadn’t even been able to explain her actions due to the interruption that had been Luke’s grand entrance. She would have to find a way to talk to her mentor in the morning, too. He’d be there, surely.

The events of the day have worn her out, especially as she had been up and working since dawn. She is more than ready to crash and just sleep all of the weariness in her bones and the alcohol in her blood away, but then she hears a rapping on her door, demanding energy she no longer has. Grumbling, she drags herself out of the bed, takes the lamp set on a nearby table, stalks her way to the door and unlocks the hinge. As soon as she does, she is blindsided by the sudden force of someone pushing their way into her room. Her instincts kick in and in a second she’s awake and berating herself for not being on guard; but then the lamp casts light on the face of her intruder, and instead of panic, relief floods through her when she sees it’s her betrothed.

She means to ask him where he’s been, if he’s all right; but then, in one deft motion, he manages to close the door behind him, take the lamp out of her hand, cup her cheek and claim her mouth. Their first kiss had been clumsy and thoughtless. Rey had imagined their second would be something more calculated, more leisurely; but this is just as reckless – if not, even more than their first. He kisses her with so much fervor, greedily breathing in between them before reclaiming her mouth, managing to go deeper each time. The hand that had been on her cheek moves to the back of her head and grasps at her hair. He drops the lamp and it lands on the floor with a loud metallic clatter, and she would worry about the noise they had just made if he had not used his now-free hand to wrap around her waist and pull her closer to him. She sighs out loud and feels him shudder against her, feels his tongue slipping through her lips to taste more of her.

But then she’s able to taste him, too, and only then does she realize that he’s inebriated. For the second time in the night, she pulls away from him. It’s too dark to see him properly because the other lit lamp is all the way on the other end of the room, so she relies on her other senses to tell her what is happening. She feels his grip on her waist tighten even though they have more space between them now and hears him whimper. It is enough to tell her that he doesn’t want to let her go. He doesn’t even need to say it; something is wrong.

“Ren.” She calls his name just as he begins to shake, but it doesn’t feel wholly right. She tries again, “Kylo. Ben. _Ben_.”

“I _can’t_ , Rey,” he finally says, voice cracking, “I cannot be parted from you, but I cannot stay here either. I don’t know what it is. If it’s this castle, if it’s this city, but I just _can’t_. Tell me you understand, Rey, that you feel it, too. Tell me I’m not losing my damn mind—”

This time, she’s the one to close the gap between them, cradling his face in her hands and pulling him into a kiss that is more controlled in its desperation. He allows her to take the lead and set the pace, responding to her ministrations skillfully. When they part to breathe, she wipes away the dampness that has covered his cheeks with the back of her hand. He has been _crying_. Whatever it is that’s bothering him is affecting him greatly, and just knowing that he's hurting hurts her as well.

“What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he buries his face into the crook of her neck. She is unsure what to do with her arms, but he doesn’t complain when she wraps them around him. They stand that way for a while, and she feels rather than hears when he breaks the silence.

“What was that?”

“I said,” he repeats his words as he lifts his face from her neck without breaking contact between their skins – his nose tracing a path up her jaw, cheek, then just a little bit above her ear. His breath is warm and tickles, but his voice is definitely clearer now. “Come away with me.”

 

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There is so much to look forward to in the morning: seeing Leia happier than before, eating a hearty breakfast, meeting Luke again and catching up with him, having tea with the other nobles and their respective matches. She has all of this waiting for her after dawn.

But she loves Kylo Ren enough to follow him all the way to Esstran.

So she does.

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what happened to me exactly? [some trigger warning for the next paragraph] Well, aside from my normal struggles with my academics, I had to deal with recovering from a breakup, too. It wasn't easy at all because I fell into depression in the middle of the semester. I turned to self-harm, I didn't eat properly, I drove recklessly and almost crashed my car into a truck. And before you go, _oh that's too much for just one boy_ , I was with the guy for more or less five years, which is already a fourth of my life so far. (Yes, I'm young, I'm just 20! Hi!) I was always so convinced that my future was with him, so when he left me, I didn't know what my future looked like anymore. I was heartbroken and devastated. However, I spent last month in Japan for an internship, and the time away from everyone and everything else has helped me; and lately I've been focusing on giving myself some love, too. We were still trying to be friendly when I left for my internship, but then he dropped contact with me in the middle of it. I came to see him when I got back, but then he had just been cruel the entire time, telling me he didn't care for me and my problems. I struggled a lot with what happened, how love could turn to indifference just like that, but I've given up on it for now. I also stole his cat, just because he was being an asshole. Lol. So there, I was a mess for a long time over it. But I'll be okay, hopefully! Aside from Japan, I was also able to travel to South Korea and Taiwan this year, so I'm definitely looking forward to being able to get out and see more of the world again. ^__^
> 
> (Lorde's new album, [Melodrama](https://open.spotify.com/album/4JeJPyNnsB3tqnHR7RL5v5), helped me get through it. If you haven't listened to it, give it a go! Also, [Supercut](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xguIYNjYU1A) is the best song. I cried to it everywhere while I was in Japan -- in the shower, in the supermarket, on the train, on the streets, at work; literally everywhere.)
> 
> Anyway, I'm back now! I can't promise a chapter soon, but I do have the plans for it laid down. And this is to let you guys know that I'm still alive and well, and that this story is, too. I hope you guys have been all right while I've been away, but if you haven't, here is a hug and a cookie. We'll get through it together. :)
> 
> As always, you can find me on [Tumblr](http://kaathiiee.tumblr.com). Also I recently made (just this year) a [Twitter](http://twitter.com/mimilovesmoo) account. Feel free to drop a follow or @ me if you want to share with me nice fluffy pictures of cats, poetry and writing stuff, memes, fandom content, whatever.
> 
> Thank you for reading and see you guys again soon! <3


	15. Runaways

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!!! I've been getting notifications of this story still receiving kudos, so thank you so much to the people who haven't given up on it and even recommended it while it was on hiatus -- and it's been a while, too. It's been more than half a year since I last updated, and during that time I've struggled to get myself together (as you might have guessed from the experience I shared with you in the last chapter). I've said this many times already, but I really appreciate everyone who's been patiently waiting for an update and those who believed that this story could still go somewhere. I wanted to give up on everything after the breakup, and honestly the positive comments you guys all gave me helped me get through it. So I am so very grateful.
> 
> Also, while trying to get my inspiration back, I listened to [this playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/1136893637/playlist/46gFiTG95Iwe42i7ReCZFJ) I found. It has a lot of good songs fit for our favorite ship, so check it out, too. 
> 
> This is somehow shorter than the other chapters, but it's packed with stuff that's sure to move the story along -- especially the relationship between Rey and Ben. Plus additional stuff from TLJ -- which I hope you catch! Hope you like it. ;)

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 _This is freedom_ , Rey had thought as she clutched onto the waist of the man in front of her, holding on as tightly as she could out of the fear of falling off of the horse. She hadn’t done this before – running away without telling anyone, that is. Would anyone care? Would anyone learn of what Rey of Jakku had done or where she had gone to? What would await her beyond the sandy dunes of her home region anyway?

Before, she had found some semblance of comfort whenever Unkar Plutt left for business. To her and the rest of those employed under the local tyrant that was supposedly the Queen’s tax-collector for their region, this had meant no required work for a few days and thus the freedom to do whatever they wished with their time. Rey had used the break to smuggle herself into Plutt’s rather inadequate library, finding a text or two to drown out the world with until darkness came and forced her to resign back to her miserable cot until the next day where she could return to reading. And the next day, too, until Plutt returned and everyone had to go back to their routines – which meant Rey had to toil back in the Graveyard in search of those metals holding ghosts of dead soldiers beneath all the sand.

At that moment, however, Rey realized that she had never truly known what freedom was before sensing the cool wind on her face instead of the harsh stings of hot sand cutting through her cheeks and eyes. _This is freedom_ , she had said out loud; _not hiding away from the world, but embracing it._

 _Selling your soul to war is hardly freedom, kid,_ the man bellowed, looking over his shoulder to warily meet her eyes before facing the road ahead of them once more.

 _I would have died in Jakku_ , Rey insisted. He would not take her newly discovered feelings of liberation away.

 _Congratulations. Instead of the badlands, you will die in some faraway place in the war for whoever holds the crown – Queen Leia._ She remembers turning her face away from the blurred yellow landscape and looking at the back of the head of the man instead, expecting him to look at her again, but he hadn’t. _Then again, what does being free even mean? Maybe_ that’s _freedom – death. It’s all the same in the end, kid. It all ends the same way._

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Years later, Rey continues to contemplate on what it really mean to be free.

Her last impulsive decision has been years ago, when a man offered her a chance to die elsewhere, for something greater than she could ever aspire to be as a young orphan trapped in a life of servitude in the badlands. She had been so fraught then, obvious in her plea of _Just take me away from here_. She had thought leaving would liberate her – and in a way, it had, but not completely. Still, she serves, but at least she does things on her own accord. She has control over her life, a _choice_ among options presented to her.

Now, Kylo Ren stands in front of her, more than close enough for comfort, his hands barely steady on her waist; his lips, too, trembling. He had just asked her to come away with him. She can say no. She _should_. All things considered, she has a duty that goes beyond him, beyond her; beyond the both of them and whatever it is they share. Hadn’t she just told Jessica Pava that she would stay in Ileenium for that very reason?

But his attempts at further imploring her works, and all it takes is one additional word from his mouth: _please_. His desperation to have her with him is more than enough to shatter her resolve. She wonders if it would always be like this between them: pushing and pulling, building and breaking, challenging each other to be better; only for her to be the one to cave, submit, _yield_?

This time, at the very least, she doesn’t leave without notice. She leaves instructions for Sabé to give to the Rebels and writes a short letter addressed to the queen, explaining the circumstances of her decision to run away. If there is anyone else who could possibly understand, it would be Leia. She wouldn’t just understand, but she would surely approve of it, of Rey’s love for her son being enough to make her go to a land she’s never been to, just to stay by his side.

She knows, though, that it doesn’t matter. None of this is meant to last anyway – not the treaty, not the peace, not the love she carries for her betrothed. When all is said and done, it really is the same in the end: everything leads to death. Between her and Kylo Ren and all the blood that has already been spilled, how can it be any different?

 

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It is fortunate that the two moons of their world shines brightly on the night they leave – enough to cast light on the path they’re taking to Esstran. They head north on their respective horses to Takodana, which has the fastest route to his city of Kaas. He looks back at her every now and then, meeting her eyes in place of a string of unsaid questions: _Are you okay? Are you tired yet? Do you want to rest?_ The answer should be _yes_ , because she’s been up since the break of dawn helping prepare for the ceremonies, and the truth is that her eyes are closing and her hold on the reins is slackening; but every time she shakes her head _no_ in response

So they carry on. And on and on and on. She doesn’t even know where they’re going exactly because she doesn’t have a map on her and she can’t recognize the road ahead of her, but he seems to be confident in navigating for the both of them. She has no idea what the near future holds for them, but she trusts him.

Kylo Ren leads his horse to the side and she follows, pulling at the reins to slow down. He unmounts and ties his horse to a nearby tree, and so does she. How long have they been riding out for already? To her bones, it feels like it’s been hours. Without a word, he hands her some rations of dried fruit and bread and hands her his jug of water. She takes them, ignoring the detached feel of his gloves and her desire to feel the warmth of his hands instead.

“Rey,” he says, and she looks up while drinking to find him staring at her. When she finishes her last gulp of water, he comes closer and his lips take up the space just unoccupied by the rim of his jug. She knows he hasn’t drank yet as his mouth is dry; but he sates his thirst with the taste of her. When they part, he keeps his gloved hands on the side of her face – all too _cold_ – and presses his forehead against hers. He breathes out, “You don’t know how much this means to me.”

“Which one?”

“This. All of it. _You_.”

“It’s nothing,” she reassures him, lifting her free hand to touch his cheek. Aside from their proximity to one another, there is something so intimate about this moment that she can’t quite wholly place. There’s something in how the light of the moon casts light over his pallor, and how he practically glows in the darkness surrounding them. It reminds her so much of their very first ride out in D’Qar. Now and even then, to her, he is the only one she sees clearly. Whether it’s a trick by her eyes or it’s her feelings at work, she doesn’t care. She’s mesmerized by him, and all she needs to make everything better is his touch, not that of the leather covering his hands.

A strong breeze passes them and she shivers. Rey seizes up and wraps both of her arms around herself, pressing the thick wool of her coat closer to her body. Kylo Ren slides his hands down from her face to her waist and pulls her to him, radiating additional warmth from his own coat and body. She tucks her head into his chest, resting her ear right over his heart where she can hear it hammer through his ribs; and he places his chin atop her crown to keep her in place.

“It’s only going to get colder,” he warns her as he slides his hands up and down her sides to simulate some friction. “The farther we get out of Ileenium and into the mountains of Esstran, the colder it’s going to be for you.”

“I’m going to be fine,” she mutters, jaw chattering, making the lie even more blatant. Having lived in the dessert for almost all her life, she could handle the heat just fine; but the other end of the thermal spectrum is something else entirely. With Rey having nothing fit for their climate, he had stolen a bright red coat from one of the other guests from Esstran for her to wear on their ride. She did feel the increasing chill in her bones, but she had excused it as exhaustion wearing her down. Now, though, properly awake from his kiss, she’s more aware of how harsh the weather really is. And the fact that it’s only going to get worse isn’t comforting at all.

“With me, you will be,” he says. “Once we get to Esstran, I’ll make sure you will have everything you need and more.”

“All I need is you,” she says, and as she hears herself say the romantic notion, she’s pleasantly surprised that it doesn’t sound like it’s entirely a lie. Perhaps it isn’t. Rey finds herself beaming as she hears his heart stutter, relishing in not only his coziness, but also in how she has such an effect on him. She allows herself this vanity, having not known how much a person could want and _be_ wanted in return before him, before _this_.

She feels him pull away and she grasps at his coat, suddenly distressed at the loss of his heat; but he only does it so he could kiss her again, and his mouth and the wonders he makes her feel with his ministrations are enough to stoke the fire within her. She feels it burn all the way down to her extremities, warming her entirely. His hand finds its way up to her nape and he pushes her face closer to his, deepening the kiss. She feels the leather directly on her skin again, and she becomes even more frustrated at how she feels him as the rest of his body is pressed against hers, but at the same time she doesn’t. She wants – no, _needs_ more of him, his skin, his warmth.

This should be enough, but it isn’t.

“ _Please_ ,” she rasps in between his kisses. “Please, Ben, I need to _feel_ you.”

He growls, something maddeningly primitive coming from his throat; and she suddenly finds herself being pushed back, being led by him through the grass and roots until her back meets the hard surface of a trunk. As soon as she’s steady on her feet, he reclaims her mouth, acting with fervor that perfectly mirrors her own desires.

They hadn’t done anything of this sort while they were in D’Qar, mostly due to the lack of privacy. She wouldn’t let him come into her quarters at the Rebel estate, saying it was improper. And she didn’t want to risk kissing him in public again, not too keen on the potential relentless teasing she’d get from the others. Not that she cared about what others thought that much, really, but still. After the first time at one of the gazebos of the Rebel estate, the only other time they had kissed had been just hours ago, when he had frantically sought her out and asked her to come with him.

Perhaps she should have just let go of her fears of indecency earlier and let him kiss her while they were trying to get to know each other in the city. If they had done this more often, she wouldn’t be as frustrated, craving so much for his touch as she does now. If his present actions can be used as a basis, she at least knows she’s just as depraved as she is.

When he pulls back once more, she thinks it’s because he needs to breathe. She wouldn’t blame him because she herself is also reeling from it. She takes the short break to inhale some air back into her lungs, but when it’s been a while and he still hasn’t returned to the task of kissing her, she slowly opens her eyes and sees him staring at her – not in any way animalistic, but rather with clarity. He gazes at her with an intensity that’s sobering, and she feels the base urge from earlier fade with every second that passes.

“Rey,” he calls out her name, steeling himself as he does, deep brown eyes flickering to her mouth for a brief moment before looking at her intently again. The combination of the night winds and the lack of contact makes her feel the chill all over again, but then his bare knuckles brush her cheek and some warmth comes back to her.

When had he taken off his glove? How come she hadn’t noticed it sooner? She raises her own hand to meet it, confirming that his hands really are devoid of their protective covers. Her fingers slide through his clenched fist and his hand opens, allowing her to slot them through the gaps. She pushes his palm even closer while he cradles her face and she hums, heaving contentment out from her lungs.

They stay like that for a while, for as long as he will indulge her – and if they are both being honest, it would be forever if one of them didn’t want to break the moment. Finally, when she’s had her fill of his affection, she offers, “Let’s go.”

 

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Following the war, the civilians pushed forward with their efforts to clean up its remnants. Mostly they had been the ones who fled Takodana and sought refuge in other regions, now coming back to find a way to make their old villages habitable once more. Not everyone had the stomach for it, though. The refugees who couldn’t help – either due to some physical or mental incapacity, or because they were too young to be shown such horrors – briefly stayed at the Rebel estate while the operations went on.

At the same time, Rey had been attempting to settle into her new post as Captain of the Rebels. The command of the troops and the fighting had come to her more easily then; but the diplomatic relations part and all its related paperwork, she had always known she would struggle in. While the others had left for Takodana to help in its rehabilitation, Rey had stayed back in D’Qar with Poe to try to learn more on how to be a leader in other aspects.

They pored over accounts of events in the war from multiple sources. Most were official reports from the military, listing down accurate details of gruesome battles, followed by the list of casualties they could confirm to be on their side. In some, there were too many names of civilians who were unfortunate enough to be caught in the clash. With each one they went through together, Rey could feel her heart sink lower and lower. She had already gone through it before; to relive it again and again, to imagine the other fights she had not taken part in, was just another form of cruel mental torture.

 _It’s rough_ , she had heard Poe say as he took one of the reports from her hand. _We’re the ones who have to learn all of this now to teach to the future Rebels. It’s one of our responsibilities as captains._

Rey had sighed, feeling heavy with burden. _I think I regret taking up the offer. Maybe I’m not suited for this._

 _I recommended you for this position because of what you did for the Rebels,_ Poe insisted _, and everyone else agreed that you deserve it._

_And yet I’m not happy._

_No one expects you to be. I doubt anyone here is. We’re all just tired._ Poe offers her a smile though. _But we’re working for that one day where we can say that everything is okay, and that maybe surviving the war would have been worth it._

She had restrained herself then, reeling her emotions in. She would have shouted at him, told him off, asked him how he could say such things. Nothing should be worth all this loss. She had felt so betrayed by Poe’s words then. Surely it would have been him, of all people, who thought that there was nothing in this damned world that was worth losing Finn for.

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She’s been seeing the mountain range where Esstran hides atop for hours now, and she knows they’re getting closer and closer by how the mountains grow larger in her vision. They do take breaks every now and then, mostly to relieve themselves or freshen up and let their horses drink in nearby tributaries. The first thing he does whenever they unmount is hold her close until she feels steady enough to stand on her own. She doesn’t argue against him; he knows how much she’s straining herself. She may be one of the best riders among the Rebels, but she can only do so much with the limitations of her own body.

At least the sun is keeping her warm somewhat, so it isn’t as cold as it had been hours ago, before the day had begun. She dreads thinking about passing the next few hours, after the sun will set. It would be cold all over again; and between that and her fatigue, she doesn’t know if she can make it until wherever it is he intends on taking her.

 _Were you_ , Rey thinks as she continues to struggle with keeping her eyes open to watch the road and the back of his figure. _Were you worth the war?_

 

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She doesn’t know how she had ended up waking alone on a soft bed, but Rey can run through scenarios in her mind until she reaches something more conclusive. The last thing she remembers is her and Kylo Ren reaching the foot of the mountains, navigating some path through the forest after leaving behind the open road of the valleys of Takodana.  They hadn’t gone up, though; instead they had stopped at some lodging, the promise of warmth in its shelter evident by the smoke rising from its chimney. By then, she had been too tired to even unmount herself. Had he prevented her fall off of her horse? Did he carry her all the way to this room and placed her atop this bed? Had he been the one to tuck her into this duvet to keep the cold at bay?

And – where _is_ he anyway?

Rey rises from the bed, noting the soreness in her muscles when she moves. Whatever rest she’s gotten so far from her slumber, she can easily tell it isn’t enough. They had arrived in time for dusk, just as the world around them began to darken; and by turning around and looking beyond the window behind her bed, she can see that it’s completely black outside. The light from the moons do not reach to the earth as easily through the thick foliage of the forest.

She walks over to the wardrobe and grabs her coat; though, upon finding that it isn’t as warm as the thick blanket on her bed, she replaces her coat back on the hook and takes the duvet off her bed and wraps it around herself. The only other apparel inside is a robe, most likely to sleep in; but Kylo Ren hadn’t changed her into it – which again, leads her to thinking of where he could be. She heads out, not bothering with the lamp on the nightstand next to her bed because opening the door shows her that the small hallway is lit well enough on its own. A cursory glance lets her know that there are five other rooms on the top floor. _Is he in one of those rooms?_

The distinct crackling sound on the hearth calls to her, to the chill currently too deep set in her bones. As much as she wants to know where her companion is, she trusts that he’s just around and wouldn’t have left her. That, and she presently can’t resist the temptation of a concrete heat to warm her up. Holding on to the railings, she descends the stairs until she has the lobby in her sights. Similar to her room, the furniture is unassuming – just two upholstered high back armchairs facing the fireplace, really.

Eerie as the thought may be, it’s easy to assume that she’s the only one in the entire lodging. The kitchen and small dining hall next to the vestibule is empty, and she hadn’t really heard anyone in the other rooms. It’s either everyone is fast asleep or she’s alone; and the thought of the latter scares her.

Before her mind can think up more horrifying scenarios of being so far away from home, not knowing the way back by herself, she hears the echoes of a snore beyond the crackle of the still-blazing fire. Rey rushes closer to the hearth and finds someone sleeping on one of the chairs – not just anyone, but Kylo Ren.

Her heart seizes up briefly at the sight of him so relaxed; eyes closed, brows unwrinkled. He’s stripped down to a simple shirt and his pants; and she envies how he’s so used to this temperature that he’s unfazed by it, especially in just one layer of clothing. He doesn’t even have a blanket on him. Meanwhile, she has hers, and she’s still too cold.

She had been so worried that he had abandoned her – but in hindsight, it’s silly to even have the thought cross her mind. He had been the one to ask her to come with him. He’s a man who sticks to his word when he’s made a decision. She should know it better than anyone else, especially with how he pursued her. His loyalty to her is unwavering – almost terrifyingly so. While, admittedly, there is much more of him that intimidates people – his demeanor, his physicality – for Rey, she hardly fears him. If anything, she fears his devotion. What lengths will he take for her? What will he do to keep her by his side?

“Ben,” she croaks out. Beside her, the wood pops, sparks of ember flying; radiating heat into the room. When her first attempt doesn’t work, she calls his name once more. “ _Ben_.”

His eyes flutter to open, adjusting quickly to the light of the flames. As soon as he spots her, there’s a look of mild surprise on his face. “Rey.”

“Yes, hello, sleepyhead,” she greets back with a small smile, reaching out to nuzzle his hair. When she does so, his hand immediately snatches her wrist. At first, it hurts, and she winces at the pain, but then he eases up on his hold on her and gently pulls her into him, making her sit between his legs, the small of her back leaning on one of the armrests and her own legs bent and placed over the other one.

Oddly enough, it’s comfortable. Rey shifts the blanket to cover the both of them and she places her head on his strong chest, closing her eyes as she allows herself to be lulled by the sound of his steady heartbeat. Despite never having done this before, it’s all familiar to her; like she’s done this many times before – and perhaps she had, in her dreams. Hadn’t she dreamt of him, too, just as he said he would dream of her as they spent time apart?

“Why were you awake?” he mumbles into her hair.

“Why did I wake up alone?” she huffs in turn.

“It was the only room left, and I thought you didn’t want to share a bed with me,” he replies, words clear, as though he is completely aware of her. “You had been so adamant about it back at the Rebel estate.”

“It’s different here.”

“Is it?”

“Yes.” Because here, she knows nobody. She doesn’t have to mind what anyone thinks is appropriate or not. That, and because, unlike in the Rebel estate, the bed in the room upstairs is more than large enough to accommodate them both. “Just come back to the bed with me.”

“Are you not comfortable? We can stay here instead and keep warm by the fire. I don’t mind if you don’t as well.” His hands move to wrap around her and pull her closer. “You’re shivering, Rey.”

If she explains that it’s all because of the weather, then it would be a lie. In truth, she is shaking from not knowing how she could want him so much. When had it even begun? Could she even pinpoint the definite moment where she started to have feelings for this man? There are traces of her old self, the one that had wanted nothing but to kill Kylo Ren in cold blood. She had been thirsty for revenge. When did she lose that part of her, the same part that could do nothing else but hold on to the memory of Finn?

Rey groans, frustrated with herself, at her inability to answer any of her own questions. Perhaps if she thinks hard enough, she will find them; but she doesn’t have any capacity to process anything else – not when the fact of Kylo Ren’s presence and proximity is maddening. She’s asleep, but somehow she isn’t; dazed, yet mindful.

“Please,” she says, “The bed can be just as warm if you’re there with me.”

“You kept saying that it’s inappropriate back in Ileenium,” he argues back. “Specifically because we’re not married.”

“No.” Rey leans away from him such that she is no longer tucked into his chest, but rather she is facing him instead with her elbows bent and forearms on his chest to stabilize herself. There is something about his face, how half is blocked by her shadows and the other is covered in streaks of orange and red from the flames; how his eyes reflect their intensity, added with his own. “You’re right. We’re not married. _Not yet_.”

He kisses her – first, with such tenderness she hadn’t imagined him to be capable of; something akin to supplication. Then, as she returns his ministrations with greater fervor, their kiss deepens.  Her hands move up to wrap around the back of his neck, pushing him even closer to her; and his tighten around her waist to keep her in place, preventing her from falling over as she leans her weight onto him. Seconds, minutes pass with their lips locked, mouths pressed upon each other. Soon enough she’s breathless, bewildered; and still somehow wanting for more.

“Not yet,” he repeats her words slowly. “When do you want it then, Rey?”

The prospect of an actual ceremony between the two of them had been just an afterthought since last night. She had nothing in mind for it – not the traditions they would follow, not the location, not the people who would be there; absolutely nothing at all. Only the fact that it is an inevitability is all she had known about it. But now, there is something much more concrete in the notion; as solid as his figure in front of her.

She had never been one to follow conventions anyway. Hadn’t her last marriage been officiated by someone who had the authority, but not really considered as official as they never had documents filed to prove the legitimacy of their union? What had mattered to her – no, to the _both_ of them back then was that they believed in their promises to one another, to how they had pledged themselves to each other. It shouldn’t be any different now, should it?

Kylo Ren had already committed himself to her upon their first week of meeting, tying his life to hers with a simple statement: _it is yours_.

His life in her hands. Once upon a time, it had been all she wanted. When he offered it, she had refused him, wanting nothing from him. In the present, however…

“I want _you_ ,” she says, more than sure of her own words. “ _Now_.”

 

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Marriage, Rey knows, is not always about love.

But sometimes, it could be. Sometimes, it is.

And when it is…

 

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Rey somehow manages to sleep in spite of the different kind of soreness added to the one she had from travelling.  She flits in and out of wakefulness throughout the day, eyes opening sometimes to find Kylo Ren either sound asleep next to her, holding her close, or watching her slumber.  When it’s the latter, she plants her lips on his, though clumsy from being groggy, and she mumbles _go back to sleep_ until he complies.

In truth, she just wants to keep sleeping, to keep giving into the lethargy. This isn’t his home, nor is it hers; but it feels like a place of their own anyway. As though they have carved themselves into this bed and turned it into hallowed ground. She doesn’t want to leave. She doesn’t want to wake up.

She’s afraid that if she does, the dreamscape would collapse around her – leaving her alone, just as she had always been. She fears that she’s just imagined everything up to this point, so consumed in her own selfish desire to run away from her own responsibilities and turn to him instead. She fears that if she opens her eyes fully, he will no longer be there, forsaking her.

“Ssshh,” he is shushing her, easing her out of her tense state. She had been crying in her sleep. He places his lips beneath her hairline and rubs circles over the small of her back in an attempt to calm her. “It’s alright, Rey. I’m here. You’re not alone. Not anymore.”

She remembers Ben Solo, the lost prince she had once lit candles for back in Jakku; and thinks of how loved he had been then, of how he is loved even now. Especially now.

Especially by her.

 _I’m not alone_ , she thinks, content; dozing off with him by her side, the heat of his body enough to warm her in the midst of the chill of the base of the mountain. She begins to dream of the old Rey, of the girl who had done nothing but wish for someone to come save her from the despair of solitude, of how she had ran away when no one else had come for her. But now, he is here. Now, they have each other. She’s not alone, and as her dreams shift to the younger him, to the boy he used to be, she knows that there must be a reason they found each other. _I’m not alone_ , she repeats in her mind as she falls into a deeper slumber, _and_ _neither are you_.

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: a bit of selling out to be had in the next paragraph. 
> 
> I'm supposedly in my last semester of undergraduate studies. Anyone else in the academe can tell you how much of a struggle it is. Right now, though, my situation is kind of tight. My mother had gotten laid off, so financially we're not the most capable right now -- especially since I need to raise $4000 just for my thesis because of all the tests I have to perform. I'm trying to request for study grants, but it won't cover the whole thing anyway. In the meantime, if you want to support me, you can do so in the following ways:
> 
> ♥ [Buying my book](https://payhip.com/b/UCb5)  
> ♥ [Buying me coffee ](http://ko-fi.com/emilypalomar)  
> ♥ [Donating thru paypal](http://paypal.me/emilypalomar)
> 
> To clarify, that's not required at all!! But your support is super appreciated regardless. :)
> 
> (Talk to me about TLJ, please. I'm not sure I'm 100% over dem feelz. I prolly won't be for the next two years, but hey, at least we're all stuck in this boat together.)


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